Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians

Home , Adonis, Appia (Phrygia), Aurelia Neapolis, Corycus, Cybele, Dositheos (Samaritan)

Associations, Judeans, and Cultural Minorities

Philip A. Harland 2009

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ISBN-13: 9780567613288 For Cheryl, Nathaniel, and Justin Contents

Illustrations ix Preface xi Map: Italy and the Eastern Roman Empire xiv Introduction 1

Part 1: Judean and Christian Identities in the Context of Associations 23 1. Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians 25 2. Local Cultural Life and Christian Identity: “Christ-Bearers” and “Fellow-Initiates” 47

Part 2: Familial Dimensions of Group Identity 61 3. “Brothers” in Associations and Congregations 63 4. “Mothers” and “Fathers” in Associations and Synagogues 82

Part 3: Identity and Acculturation among Judeans and Other Ethnic Associations 97 5. Other Diasporas: Immigrants, Ethnic Identities, and Acculturation 99 6. Interaction and Integration: Judean Families and Guilds at Hierapolis 123

Part 4: Group Interactions and Rivalries 143 7. Group Rivalries and Multiple Identities: Associations at Sardis and Smyrna 145 8. Perceptions of Cultural Minorities: Anti-Associations and their Banquets 161

Conclusion 182

vii viii Contents Abbreviations 186

Bibliography 1. Epigraphic and Papyrological Collections 189 2. Other Primary and Secondary Sources 196

Indices Ancient Sources 220 Inscriptions and Papyri 224 Modern Authors 233 Names, Places, and Subjects 237 Illustrations

1 Banqueting hall of the cowherds at Pergamon (second cent. ce) 30 2 Monument depicting three gods (Zeus, Artemis, and Apollo), an association, and entertainment, from Panormos near Kyzikos, now in British Museum (GIBM IV. 1007) 31 3 Monument set up by fi shermen and fi shmongers at Ephesos, now in the Selçuk Archaeological Museum (IEph 20; 50s ce) 34 4 Relief of Demeter from Kozçesme in northwestern Asia Minor, now in the Istanbul Archaeological Museum (fourth cent. bce) 50 5 Statue of Dionysos, now in the Selçuk Archaeological Museum 51 6 Relief depicting a procession of a maenad and two satyrs, from Villa Quintilliana near Rome, now in the British Museum (ca. 100 ce) 53 7 Statue of Artemis of Ephesos, now in the Selçuk Archaeological Museum 55 8 Bronze statue of an athlete scraping oil from his body in connection with a competition, now in the Ephesos Museum, Vienna (Roman copy of a Greek original from ca. 320 bce) 78 9 Bronze lamp depicting Herakles (oft en patron deity of athletes) fi ghting a centaur, now in the Ephesos Museum, Vienna (ca. 150–100 bce) 79 10 Statue of Silenos caring for the baby Dionysos, now in the Louvre 93 11 Monument from Delos dedicated “to Apollo and the Italian gods” by the Italian Hermaists, Apolloniasts, and Poseidoniasts, now in the British Museum (GIBM IV 963 = IDelosChoix 157; 74 bce) 105 12 Marble relief of Bendis, goddess of the Th racians, along with several athletic youths, now in the British Museum (ca. 400–375 bce) 107

ix x Illustrations 13 Grave “of the Judeans” from Hierapolis, with a menorah and lion (IHierapMir 6 = IJO II 187) 125 14 Grave mentioning the “people of the Judeans” at Hierapolis (IHierapMir 5 = IJO II 206) 126 15 Grave of P. Aelius Glykon and Aurelia Amia, involving guilds of carpet-weavers and purple-dyers (IHierapMir 23 = IJO II 196) 129 16 Synagogue hall within the bath–gymnasium complex at Sardis 147 17 Statue head of Herodes Att icus, now in the British Museum 155 18 Th e meeting place of the builders’ guild at Ostia 157 19 Architrave depicting a struggle between a Lapith and Centaur, from the Parthenon at Athens, now in the British Museum (fi fth cent. bce) 164 20 Sketch of the rules of the Bacchic association (Iobacchoi) at Athens, from Harrison 1906, fi gure 25 173 Preface

Research for this book was supported by grants from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, from Concordia University, Montreal, and from York University, Toronto. I would like to thank a number of research assistants over the past few years who have played some role in the making of this book: Angela Brkich, Sacha Mathew, Julia Campbell-Such, Mayjee Philip, Daniel Bernard (Concordia University), Agnes Choi (University of Toronto), and William den Hollander, who prepared the indices (York University). I am grateful to many colleagues who in some way contributed to the completion of this work. I would especially like to thank John S. Kloppenborg, Steve Mason, Richard Ascough, and Giovanni Bazzana, who read and commented on some or all of the manuscript. I am grateful to the members of the Context Group, who discussed chapters 1–2 at the meeting in Stella, New York (March 2009). Among those who provided feedback on earlier incarnations of the chapters presented here are Michel Desjardins (Wilfrid Laurier University), Harold Remus (Wilfrid Laurier University), Jinyu Liu (DePauw University), Jonathan Scott Perry (University of Central Florida), and Zeba Crook (Carleton University). Several chapters were also previously presented at conferences, and I would like to thank participants in the Greco-Roman Religions, Hellenistic Judaism, and Greco- Roman Meals sections of the Society of Biblical Literature and members of the Religious Rivalries seminar of the Canadian Society of Biblical Studies. Most of all, I would like to thank my wife, Cheryl Williams, who read all of the manuscript in some form or another, making valuable suggestions for improvement. As always, friends and family, who know who they are, have been a support throughout the project. Th is book is dedicated to my wife, Cheryl, and my sons, Nathaniel and Justin. All photos that appear in this volume were taken by me (© 2009 Philip A. Harland). I would like to thank the organizations and staff s responsible for maintaining the archeological sites and museums for permission to view and photograph these ancient archeological materials. Th e map base is used with permission from the Ancient World Mapping Center, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (www.unc.edu/awmc). Chapters 1 and 5 are, on the whole, new and appear here for the fi rst time. eTh following articles or portions of them form the basis of certain chapters in this book, and I would like to thank the following publishers or organizations for permission to incorporate material,

xi xii Preface in signifi cantly revised form, from these articles: Part 1: “Christ-Bearers and Fellow- Initiates: Local Cultural Life and Christian Identity in Ignatius’s Lett ers,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 11 (2003): 481–99, with permission from the journal. Part 2: “Familial Dimensions of Group Identity: “‘Brothers’ (ἀδελφοί) in Associations of the Greek East,” Journal of Biblical Literature 124 (2005): 491–513, with permission from the journal and the Society of Biblical Literature. “Familial Dimensions of Group Identity (II): ‘Mothers’ and ‘Fathers’ in Associations and Synagogues of the Greek World,” Journal for the Study of Judaism 38 (2007): 57–79, with permission from the journal. Part 3: “Acculturation and Identity in the Diaspora: A Jewish Family and ‘Pagan’ Guilds at Hierapolis,” Journal of Jewish Studies 57 (2006): 222–44, with permission from the journal and the Oxford Centre of Jewish and Hebrew Studies. Part 4: “Spheres of Contention, Claims of Pre- Eminence: Rivalries among Associations in Sardis and Smyrna.” In Religious Rivalries and the Struggle for Success in Sardis and Smyrna, vol. 14, edited by Richard S. Ascough; Studies in Christianity and Judaism, 53–63, 259–62 (Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2005), with permission from the publisher and the Canadian Corporation for the Studies in Religion. “‘Th ese People Are . . . Men Eaters’: Banquets of the Anti-Associations and Perceptions of Minority Cultural Groups.” In Identity and Interaction in the Ancient Mediterranean: Jews, Christians and Others. Essays in Honour of Stephen G. Wilson, edited by Zeba A. Crook and Philip A. Harland, 56–75 (Sheffi eld: Sheffi eld Phoenix Press, 2007), with permission from Sheffi eld Phoenix Press. Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Italy and the Eastern Roman Empire Map base copyright 2009, Ancient World Mapping Center, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill . Used by permission. Map prepared by Philip Harland. Introduction

Drawing on insights from the social sciences, this study suggests that we can bett er understand certain dynamics of identity among groups of Judeans (Jews) and Chris- tians by looking at archeological evidence for other contemporary associations and cultural minority groups. Ancient Judean and Christian answers to the question Who are we? come into sharper focus through close att ention to the cultural environments and real-life sett ings of associations in the cities of the Roman Empire. Despite the peculiarities of both Judean gatherings and Christian congregations, there were signifi - cant overlaps in how associations of various kinds communicated their identities and in how members of such groups expressed notions of belonging internally. Recent studies are shedding light on aspects of identity in the world of the early Christians.1 And yet there is a tendency to neglect archeological evidence regarding real-life groups at the local level, groups that might provide a new vantage point to early Christianity. For instance, Judith Lieu’s important contributions to the study of early Christian identity are particularly notable.2 In her latest work, Christian Identity in the Jewish and Graeco-Roman World (2004), Lieu investigates the emergence of Chris- tian identity in literature of the fi rst two centuries, drawing on concepts from the social sciences along the way. Th e strength of this work lies in its comparative approach, investigating various identity issues among Judeans, Christians, and both Greeks and Romans. Th us, for instance, Lieu shows how similar ethnographic discourses were at work in Roman perspectives on “foreign” peoples (e.g., Tacitus on the Germans and on the Judeans), in Judean defi nitions of the “gentiles,” and in some early Christian processes of self-defi nition in relation to the “other.”3 Like Denise Kimber Buell (2005), Lieu also helpfully notes the importance of discourses of ethnicity in the construction of Christian identity, to which I return below.4 However, Lieu’s att empt to cover so much ground and her concentration on literary sources to the exclusion of archeology did not permit a focus on identity within small groups and associations in Greco-Roman sett ings. Th is lack of att ention to group

1. See, for instance, Lieu 2004; Buell 2005. 2. See Lieu 1996 and 2002. 3. Lieu 2004, 269–97. 4. Lieu 2004, 239–68. Cf. Lieu 2002, 49–68.

1 2 Introduction identity and local groups as a comparative framework is, in part, a result of Lieu’s stress on what she sees as a more “universal,” “translocal identity” shared by Christians that, she implies, is a unique trait of the Christians.5 So despite her aim of comparison, she tends to focus on what is distinctive or unique about Christian identity, oft en to the exclusion of areas of overlap in identity formation and negotiation within groups in the Greco-Roman world.6 In the introduction, she explicitly sets aside “voluntary associations” (collegia, θίασοι) as somehow too “local” to be of any use in assessing dynamics of identity among early Christian groups, which are presumed to be primarily “translocal.”7 An abundance of archeological and inscriptional evidence for group identity in the Greco-Roman world thereby gets left aside as somehow irrelevant. Other scholars do see the value in comparisons that look to local archeological and epigraphic materials, including evidence for associations in the world of early Christian groups and Judean gatherings. Yet the topic of identity formation and negotiation with regard to associations is only beginning to be addressed. Associations in the Greco- Roman world fi rst drew the att ention of numerous scholars in the late nineteenth century, such as Jean-Pierre Waltzing (1895–1900), Erich Ziebarth (1896), and Franz Poland (1909), who focussed primarily on things such as the types of groups, group terminology, internal organization, and legal issues. As I discuss at length elsewhere, there were some initial att empts—by scholars such as Edwin Hatch (1909 [1880]) and Georg Heinrici (1876, 1881)—to compare such groups with Christian congregations.8 Yet many were hesitant to engage in such comparisons due, in large part, to ideological or theological assumptions concerning the supposed uniqueness and incomparability of early Christianity.9 As interests turned to social history since the 1970s, there has been renewed att ention to studying such associations within the disciplines of Greek and Roman studies. Th ere are many recent works, including those by Frank M. Ausbütt el (1982), Ulrich Fellmeth (1987), Halsey L. Royden (1988), Onno M. van Nijf (1997), Imogen Ditt mann-Schöne (2000), Brigitt e Le Guen (2001), Holger Schwarzer (2002), Carola Zimmermann (2002), Ulrike Egelhaaf-Gaiser and Alfred Schäfer, eds. (2002), Sophia Aneziri (2003), Jinyu Liu (2004), Jonathan Scott Perry (2006), and Stefan Sommer (2006), to name a few. Th is resurgence in interest was also refl ected in the study of diaspora Judean gatherings and Christian congregations. Th ere are now a signifi cant number of works that compare associations with either Judean or Christian groups in the Roman period,

5. Lieu 2004, 4. 6. Lieu 2004, 11. At times, this focus on distinctiveness seems to refl ect an idealizing approach to early Christians, as when Lieu speaks of “mutual support” or “love” (agapē) as “an inalienable element in the shared symbols that shaped early Christian identity” (Lieu 2004, 169). 7. Lieu 2004, 4. On problems with such local vs. translocal contrasts, see Ascough 1997a. 8. See Kloppenborg 1993; Harland 2003a. For other subsequent att empts at comparison before the resurgence since 1980, see, for instance, Besnier 1932; Gilmour 1938; Reicke 1951; Guterman 1951 (on synagogues and the collegia); Judge 1960. 9. See J. Z. Smith 1990; Kloppenborg 1993. Introduction 3 including those by Robert Wilken (1972, 1984), S. C. Barton and G. H. R. Horsley (1981), Hans-Josef Klauck (1981, 1982), Moshe Weinfeld (1986), John S. Kloppenborg (1993), John S. Kloppenborg and Stephen Wilson, eds. (1996), Th omas Schmeller (1995), Peter Richardson (1996), Albert Baumgarten (1998), Paul R. Trebilco (1999), Anders Runesson (2001), Richard S. Ascough (1997b, 2003), Eva Ebel (2004), and my own previous works listed in the bibliography, especially Associations, Synagogues, and Congregations (2003a). Such comparative studies are sett ing the stage for focussed explorations of specifi c aspects of association life, including issues relating to identity and belonging in the context of small groups. Explorations of this sort will provide new perspectives on both Judean gatherings and Christian congregations. Th e present study of identity in the world of the early Christians contributes towards this scholarly enterprise. I focus att ention on the question of how associations and ethnic groups in the ancient Mediterranean provide a new angle of vision on questions of identity formation and negotiation among Judean gatherings and Christian congregations in the fi rst three centuries. Archeological evidence and inscriptions provide a window into dynamics of identity within group sett ings in antiquity. Insights from the social sciences off er a constructive framework for making some sense of these materials.

Social-Historical Study of Group Life in the Greco-Roman World

Th is study is social-historical in at least two senses of the word. On the one hand, I am interested in the everyday life sett ings of average people in antiquity, in down-to- earth social interactions and cultural practices at the local level. Social history in this sense originally emerged as “history from below” in the discipline of history beginning primarily in the post–World War II period, especially since the 1960s.10 “History from below” or social history is history from the perspective of those who are oft en left out of traditional approaches to political and intellectual history. It gives att ention to those who did not necessarily hold positions of infl uence or power, or who were not necessarily educated enough to write things down themselves (e.g., the lower social strata of societies, and women). In time, this interest in social history began to play a role in other disciplines including classical studies and New Testament studies. Works by Ramsay MacMullen (1974), G. E. M. de Ste. Croix (1981), and Géza Alföldy (1985) illustrate the budding interest in social history of the Greek and Roman periods, for instance. Among the earlier cases of social-historical approaches to the early Christians are infl uential contributions by

10. See Burke 1992 [1980], 13–16. Among the earlier and more infl uential social historians were those of the French Annales school, including Fernand Braudel (1949) and, later, Marxist historians such as Eric Hobsbawm (1959, 1969), E. P. Th ompson (1964), and Christopher Hill (1971, 1972). 4 Introduction scholars such as Gerd Th eissen (1982 [1973], 1978), John G. Gager (1975), Abraham Malherbe (1983 [1977]), John H. Elliott (1990 [1981]), Wayne A. Meeks (1983), and Richard Horsley (1985). In the case of small group life in the ancient world, archeological and inscriptional evidence is particularly important in approaching social history. Th is is because this evidence frequently off ers glimpses into everyday social and cultural interactions that are not as visible in literary sources. Literary sources were produced by a small segment of the population, the educated elites (although there was a range of statuses among this segment). Usually literacy levels are estimated to be approximately 10 percent of the population for antiquity and for the period before the invention of the printing press in 1453.11 Nonetheless, one can approach literary evidence in careful ways to shed light on social and cultural practices among the population generally, keeping in mind the specifi c perspectives of the ancient authors in question. On the other hand, this study is social-historical in the sense that it employs the social sciences. Th e social sciences in question are sociology (the study of social groups and structures), anthropology (the study of humans and human culture), and social psychology (the study of individual human behaviour in social group contexts). Th e social sciences came to play a role in social-historical studies in history quite early, as Peter Burke’s survey of 1980 (repr. 1992) on History and Social Th eory illustrates. Eventu- ally such approaches began to be employed in the study of early Christianity and the New Testament, initially by scholars such as those I mentioned above in connection with social-historical studies and those belonging to the Context Group (formed in 1986). Before outlining the social-scientifi c concepts that inform this volume, it is important to say a few words about how one goes about using social sciences in historical study. Th ere is now a broad consensus among scholars of early Christianity, for instance, that the social sciences can and should be employed to shed new light on early Christianity. However, as Dale Martin (1993) also notes, this consensus is marked by a spectrum of opinion on how to approach the enterprise, as recent debates between Philip Esler and David Horrell also illustrate.12 While some tend to emphasize the scientifi c nature of the enterprise and focus their att ention on developing, applying, and testing models, others are less focussed on models and take what they would call a more interpretive approach to their use of the social sciences. On the one hand, the Context Group has been particularly instrumental in developing social-scientifi c approaches toearly Christianity. Scholars such as Philip Esler, Bruce Malina, John H. Elliott , and others associated with that group take what they would consider a scientifi c, model-based approach to their research.13 Th ey correctly emphasize the value of employing explicit models or theories from the social sciences, since this approach helps the scholar to avoid the negative eff ect of implicit assumptions when our models of social interactions remain unrecognized or unstated.14

11. On the Roman era, see Harris 1989 and Beard 1991, for instance. 12. See, for example, Horrell 1996, 2000, 2002; Esler 1998a, 1998b. Cf. Martin 1993. 13. See esp. Elliott 1993 for a summary of this approach. 14. See Elliott 1993. Introduction 5 Elliott defi nes a model as an “abstract representation of the relationships among social phenomena used to conceptualize, analyze, and interpret patt erns of social relations, and to compare and contrast one system of social relations with another.”15 Such models are considered to serve as heuristic devices in raising questions that help to explain the signifi cance of social and cultural data refl ected in the New Testament. It is particularly common for scholars such as Malina and Jerome Neyrey, for instance, to draw on models from recent studies of modern Mediterranean cultures, such as those associated with honour-shame societies, and to adapt them in ways that shed light on the ancient Mediterranean.16 Beyond participants in the Context Group, other scholars such as Gerd Th eissen (1982, 1999), Wayne Meeks (1983), Margaret McDonald (1988), John M. G. Bar- clay (1996), and David Horrell (Horrell 1996, 2000, 2002) have engaged in historical studies of Christian origins or ancient Judean culture that employ the social sciences in various ways. Some of these scholars take a more interpretive approach to the use of the social sciences and tend to speak of themselves as social historians rather than social scientists. Some tend towards a piecemeal approach to the use of sociological theory, including Meeks. Others, such as Horrell, speak in terms of using social theory to develop a theoretical framework for the analysis of ancient materials, and such scholars focus less on models specifi cally.17 Building on contributions from both of these scholarly areas, I approach the social sciences as heuristic devices, as things that help the social historian develop questions and fi n d or notice things that might otherwise remain obscure. I tend to draw on social- scientifi c insights to develop a research framework for analysis, and I am less focused than some other scholars on testing models specifi cally. In this respect, I consider myself more a social historian than a social scientist. Th roughout this interdisciplinary study, I explain and adapt social-scientifi cconcepts and theories in order to further our understanding of specifi c historical cases in the ancient context.

Key Concepts and Insights from the Social Sciences

Th is study is informed by insights from two overlapping areas of social-scientifi c investigation: identity theory, on the one hand, and studies of ethnic groups and migration theory, on the other. For both of these areas of research, there is a high degree of interdisciplinarity involving sociology, anthropology, and social psychology. Let me begin by briefl y introducing these two areas and by defi ning key theoretical concepts for this study along the way. It is important to stress that the concepts that I defi ne here in the introduction are scholarly outsider (etic) terms that help us to make sense of social relations and cultural interactions in the ancient world. Most of the time these

15. Elliott 1993, 132. 16. See Malina 1981, or subsequent editions of that work. 17. Horrell 1996, 9–32, esp. p. 18. 6 Introduction concepts would not be used by the ancient subjects we are studying. Oft en, however, scholars take into consideration insider, or emic, perspectives or conceptions as part of their defi nition of an etic category, as we will see with both “identity” and “ethnic group.”

Identity Theory

Broadly speaking, there are two main ways in which the concept of “identity” is used in this study, corresponding to variant, though related and overlapping, uses in the social sciences, each with diff erent purposes.18 Th ere is the collective use of the term identity and the more individual-focused use of the term. In both uses, however, identity is seen as socially constructed by the subjects under investigation and as malleable, not as primordial, engrained, or static. First, there is the collective view of identity that is most common in ethnic and migration studies. Roughly speaking, this view of identity best corresponds to our subjects answering the question Who are we? as well as What distinguishes us from other groups in this society? and Where do we draw the lines (or boundaries) between our group and others? Th is tradition within sociology and anthropology, which under- lies much of my discussion in the following chapters, employs the concept of identity and especially ethnic identity in a collective way to refer to group-members’ common sense of belonging together in a particular ethnic or cultural minority group. In the wake of the work of anthropologist Fredrik Barth (1969), “ethnic identity” is oft en used to refer to a particular group’s shared sense of belonging together because of certain experiences and notions of connection deriving from group-members’ perceptions of common cultural heritage and common geographical and/or ancestral origins (emic perspectives are incorporated into an etic category).19 As Jonathan M. Hall emphasizes in his discussion of ethnicity in the archaic and classical Greek periods, fi ctive kinship is oft en central to the defi nition of ethnicity, alongside the historical subjects’ notions of a common history and a shared homeland.20 Th e imagined connections and the categories used by participants to classify themselves or others in ethnic terms may, and oft en do, change over time (despite the common perceptions of some actors that such things are in-born, primordial, or static). Nonetheless, if a given ethnic group is to continue, what is maintained is the “continued interest on the part of its members in maintaining the boundaries” which are considered to separate members of the ethnic group (“us”) from others (“them”).21 It is important to emphasize that ethnicity or ethnic identity, in this view, is ascriptive and subjective rather than primordial and objective. What matt ers is how the partici-

18. Cf. Howard 2000; Stets and Burke 2003. 19. On ethnic identity see, for instance, Barth 1969; Romanucci-Ross and de Vos 1995, 13; de Vos 1995; Verkuyten 2004. 20. Hall 2002, 9–19. 21. Goudriaan 1992, 76; de Vos 1995. Introduction 7 pants categorize themselves and how they adopt a perspective that sees their belonging together as engrained. Th ere is a sense in which this collective concept of identity will be most appropriate in the present study. Th ere are at least a couple of reasons why this is so. Th e fragmentary nature of ancient evidence means that we lack suffi cient data on individual roles or individual self-conceptions, but we do catch glimpses of group life and interactions. Furthermore, recent studies by scholars such as Malina and others draw att ention to the primarily collective character of ancient Greco-Roman societies and the dyadic or group-oriented nature of ancient personalities.22 Th is contrasts somewhat to the more individualistic tendencies of modern, Western societies and personality development in those societies. So a collective concept of identity is particularly fi tting in studying the world of the early Christians. Recent works have usefully employed such concepts of ethnicity in studying groups in the ancient context, including Hall’s (1997, 2002) important studies of the emergence of Hellenicity; Philip F. Esler’s (2003) discussion of tensions between ethnic groups within the Christian congregations at Rome; and Barclay’s (2007) study of Josephus’s expression of Judean identity in terms of common descent, history, territory, language, sacred texts, and temple. In the following section, I return to defi ning related concepts including “ethnic group” and “cultural minority group,” but for now we need to consider some other social-scientifi c theories of identity. Th e second main way in which the concept of identity can be employed relates to sociological and, especially, social psychological theories of identity. Here the term relates primarily to the individual’s self-concept as it pertains to positions or roles within social groupings. Th is nonetheless has implications for group identity as a whole. Roughly speaking, this view of identity best corresponds to our subjects answering questions such as Who am I in this particular situation and how does this relate to who I am in other social groups? and How is my own self-conception based on, or aff ected by, my belonging in this particular group? Th e focus here, one could say, is on the interaction of individuals and the group in the construction and negotiation of identities and in aff ecting social behaviours. Th ere are at least two schools of research that employ identity in this second way. Th e most important for this study is what is known as “social identity theory.”23 Th e “social” descriptor in social identity refers to the part of one’s self-conception that is based on, and infl uenced by, membership ina group, be that an ethnic group or some other cultural or social group.24 Social identity theorists who follow the lead of the social psychologist Henri Tajfel (1981) tend to use the term “social identity” to refer to an “individual’s knowledge that he/she belongs to certain social groups together with some emotional and value signifi cance to him/her of the group membership.”25

22. Malina 1981. 23. For social identity theory see, for instance, Tajfel 1981; Tajfel, ed. 1982; Tajfel and Turner 1986; Abrams and Hogg 1990; Verkuyten 2004, 39–73. 24. See Tajfel 1981, 13–56. 25. Tajfel as cited by Abrams and Hogg 1990, 2. 8 Introduction Social identity theorists in line with Tajfel also pay att ention to interactions between diff erent groups as they aff ect social identity. So issues concerning outsiders’ categorizations of a particular group or its members, including stereotypes, are important here. Esler (1998a, 2003) is among the scholars that have fruitfully employed social identity theory to shed light on dynamics of group confl ict refl ected in Paul’s lett ers to the Galatians and to the Romans. Another variant of the second main approach to identity is represented by sociologists such as Sheldon Stryker and Peter J. Burke, who speak of their own approach as “identity theory” (to be distinguished from Tajfelian “social identity theory”).26 Th is symbolic interactionist tradition in sociological social psychology stresses the interplay of self and social structure, paying special att ention to “individual role relationships and identity variability, motivation, and diff erentiation.”27 In this view, the “core of an identity is the categorization of the self as an occupant of a role and incorporating into the self the meanings and expectations associated with the role and its performance.”28 “Identities are the meanings that individuals hold for themselves—what it means to be who they are,” as Burke states.29 Th is approach is focussed on the individual self, on identities housed in the individual, and on how these manifest themselves in social relations or social structures. Stryker and Burke’s approach is most suited to conditions where the individual behaviours of subjects can be carefully analyzed, which is not the case in studying people in antiquity. I will nonetheless occasionally draw on insights from their theories and fi ndings. Both this interactionist approach to identity and other studies of ethnic identity specifi cally give att ention to the multiple nature of identities among individuals, something that will be important to keep in mind when we turn to multiple affi liations among associations in chapters 6 and 7. Burke is interested in “questions of how multiple identities relate to each other, how they are switched on or off , and, when they are on, how the person manages to maintain congruence between perceptions and standards for each identity.”30 For Burke here, identities are “housed” in the individual and activated within certain situations. He notes three diff erent conditions, the second of which is relevant to the discussion in chapters 6 and 7: (1) persons may have multiple role identities within a single group, (2) persons may have similar role identities in more than one group, (3) persons may have diff erent role identities within intersecting groups.31 It is important to note that studies of ethnicities and migration make similar observations concerning the “situational” character of social and ethnic identities.32 How one identifi es oneself in terms of social, ethnic, and other identities may shift

26. See Stryker and Burke 2000; Stets and Burke 2003. 27. Stets and Burke 2003, 133. 28. Stets and Burke 2003, 134. 29. Burke 2003, 196. 30. Burke 2003, 196–97. 31. Burke 2003, 200–201. 32. See Kaufert 1977; Howard 2000, 381–82; Waters 2000; Verkuyten 2004, 149–181. Introduction 9 from one situation to another, and there is potential for a blending of identities, or hybridity. Rina Benmayor, a historian of migration, stresses that the personal testi- mony of immigrants speaks “to how im/migrant subjects constantly build, reinvent, synthesize, or even collage identities from multiple sources and resources, oft en lacing them with deep ambivalence.”33 Membership in, or affi liation with, multiple groups plays a role in these options for identifi cation.Joseph M. Kaufert notes that studies of “multiple ethnic loyalties have stressed that individuals and groups have an array of alternate identities from which to choose. Th ey will adopt—or be perceived by others as maintaining—diff erent ethnic identities in diff erent situations.”34 Kaufert also notes the potential for “dissonance” between confl icting identities in diff erent situations.35 Th e collective and individual perspectives on identity outlined above do share in common certain features, including a recognition of the dynamism, malleability, and multiplicity of identities, as well as the situational nature and development of identities as understood and expressed in particular places and times. In other words, the answers to the questions Who are we? or Who am I in relation to this group or situation? varied and changed over time despite elements of stability.36 Identities of groups or individuals are negotiated and renegotiated, expressed and reexpressed; they are not static. Several recent social-scientifi c studies usefully combine insights from the perspectives outlined above to help explain dynamics of identity in terms of two main, interdependent factors: “internal defi nitions” within the group and “external defi n- itions” (or “external categorizations”) by contemporary outsiders. Th is corresponds to ascribed (internal) and att ributed (external) identifi cations. Th ese two factors frame the discussion of identity throughout the chapters in this book, with some chapters concentrating more on the former or on the latt er, and others dealing with both of these formative identity factors simultaneously. Let me briefl y explain internal and externaldefi nitions here, and then I will expand this explanation in subsequent chapters with case studies of Judeans, Christians, and others in the Greco-Roman world. Richard Jenkins (1994), for instance, who builds on the work of both Barth (1969) and Tajfel (1981), explains how social and ethnic identities are constructed and reconfi gured in relation to both internal defi nitions and external categorizations.37 Internally, members of a group express their identities and formulate what they consider to be the basis of their belonging together as a group, engaging in self-defi nitions and in the construction of boundaries between insiders and outsiders. Externally, outsiders categorize and label a particular group or members of a group. Th is external process of categorization can range from a high level of consensus

33. Benmayor 1994, 15. 34. Kaufert 1977, 126. 35. Kaufert 1977, 127. 36. On the primordial vs. circumstantial debate about ethnicity, which cannot be fully addressed here, see Scott 1990; Verkuyten 2004, 81–90. 37. Cf. Tajfel 1981. 10 Introduction with internal modes of defi nition (as when anoutsider’s categories overlap signifi cantly with internal modes of self-defi nition) to confl ictual categorizations (as when outsiders categorize or label members of another group in terms of negative stereotypes). Th e relational nature of identity formulations and the shift ing boundaries between a group and others means that even these negative categorizations or stereotypes of outsiders come to play a role in identity constructions through the process of internalization. Internalization involves the categorized person or group reacting in some way to external categorizations, as I explain in chapters 5 and 8. Th ese interdependent internal defi nitions and external categorizations occupy the chapters in this volume.

Ethnic Studies and Migration Theory

Closely related to studies of identity, particularly ethnic identity, are social-scientifi c studies of ethnic groups, minority groups, and migration, including processes of assimilation or acculturation. Ethnic and migration studies have developed into somewhat of a subdiscipline within the social sciences, as refl ected in journals such asTh e Jour- nal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, Ethnic and Racial Studies, and Diaspora: A Journal of Transnational Studies.38 I have already touched on the ascriptive (rather than primordial) nature of ethnicity as it is understood in the wake of Barth’s (1969) anthropological study of ethnic boundaries. Although precise defi nitions vary within the social-scientifi c literature, there is a commonly shared use of the term “ethnic group” to describe a group that is perceived by members and, secondarily, by outsiders in particular ways. As Jimy M. Sanders’s survey of the literature points out, there are two common denominators in the social constructions of members and of outsiders that form the basis of many scholarly defi nitions of ethnic group—the cultural and the geographical:

Th e fi rst of these elements is usually viewed as a social construction involving insiders and outsiders mutually acknowledging group diff erences in cultural beliefs and practices. Insiders and outsiders do not necessarily agree over the details of the acknowledged cultural division. . . . Th e second basic element used to defi ne an ethnic group pertains to geographical origins, and therefore social origins, that are foreign to the host society. While this element usually has an objective basis, it is also partly subjective. Th e native-born generations of an ethnic group sometimes continue to be identifi ed by outsiders, and in-group members may self-identify, in terms of their foreign origin. Th e ways in which insiders and outsiders go about characterizing a group, and thereby positioning it and its members in the larger society, are responsive

38. For an overview of this subdiscipline, see Brett ell and Hollifi eld 2000, Banton 2001, and Vertovec 2007. Introduction 11 to the social and historical context within which intergroup interactions take place.39

So an ethnic group is a group that sees itself as sharing certain distinctive cultural characteristics that are associated with a particular geographical origin or homeland. As mentioned earlier, this distinctiveness is usually described by participants in terms of a shared history and ancestry (regardless of whether or not this is objectively the case). Th e ethnic group is characterized by fi ctive kinship and participants oft en interpret these notions of kinship as primordial or inborn.40 Th e existence of an ethnic group is maintained through what Barth and others call “ethnic boundaries” between the group and other groups within society. Ethnic identities are dependent on the everyday interactions among members of the group and between members and other groups. Th ese interactions result in the formulation of notions of “us” and “them.” Th e quotation from Sanders also indicates the primary importance of the category ethnic group in studying migration and in studying what I also call “immigrant groups” or “immigrant associations.” Th e majority of ethnic group studies in the social sciences are focussed on immigrants in a host society or a “diaspora,” as well as the relation of such groups to the homeland.41 Although related to the concept of ethnic group, it is important to clarify another concept that I employ in a particular way in this study: “cultural minority group” or “cultural minorities.”42 Th is concept is more generic than the specifi c category ethnic group. I use the term cultural minority group to describe a group that is, numerically, in the minority in a particular context and which has certain cultural customs that are oft en highlighted as distinctive by both its members and by those outside the group, especially by the “cultural majority” in a particular locale or region. So it is possible to have a cultural minority group that is not an immigrant or ethnic group that shares notions of ancestral kinship (e.g., certain Christian groups in the fi rst two centuries, as I explain below). Still most migrant ethnic groups that sett le elsewhere and represent a minority position in terms of certain key cultural practices (e.g., Judeans in the Greek cities of Asia Minor) would also be cultural minority groups. My use of “minority” in this terminology is in line with that of the British soci- ologist Michael Banton, for whom a minority is “a category consisting of less than half the number of some named population.”43 Philip Gleason’s (1991) history of the concept “minority” shows how Banton is here avoiding popular, political, and certain sociological defi nitions (e.g., avoiding Louis Wirth’s defi nition). These other defi nitions tend to problematically emphasize experiences of discrimination or prejudice as the main criterion in defi ning “minority” (even to the point of calling a group that

39. Sanders 2002, 327–328. 40. Cf. Verkuyten 2004, 81–90. 41. On the concept of “diaspora” as it has been developed in this area, see Brubaker 2005. 42. On problems with defi nitions of “minority,” see Meyers 1984 and, more importantly, Glea- son 1991. Cf. Layton-Henry 2001. 43. Banton as cited by Gleason 412. See Banton 1977; Banton 1983, 130–31. 12 Introduction is statistically in the majority a minority based on social discrimination).44 Although groups to whom I apply the term did, at certain times and places, experience discrimination, I do not consider victimization integral to my use of the descriptor “minority” in cultural minority group. Th is is also a good place to briefl y state what I mean by “culture,” which is a concept that is closely bound up in discussions of ethnicity and identity. William H. Sewell’s (1999) helpful survey of debates concerning the use of the concept of culture within anthropology argues that, despite certain anthropologists’ observations concerning its problems and ambiguities, we should carefully refi ne defi nitions of the concept. The concept of culture continues to be useful not only in anthropology but also in social history, Sewell’s own area. Sewell shows how two diff erent approaches to defi ning culture can be seen as complementary in certain respects: culture-as-system-of-symbols, on the one hand, and culture-as-practice, on the other. Cliff ord Geertz’s infl uential explanation of culture sees it as a coherent “system of inherited conceptions expressed in symbolic forms by means of which men [sic] communicate, perpetuate, and develop their knowledge about and att itudes towards life.”45 Both cultural anthropologists and cultural sociologists tend to use the term culture to refer to processes of human meaning-making embodied in symbols, values, and practices that are shared and passed on by a particular group.46 Yet Sewell appropriately notes that such defi nitions of culture as a coherent system tend towards synchronic analysis (at a particular time), rather than diachronic analysis (through time): “His- torians are generally uncomfortable with synchronic concepts. As they took up the study of culture, they subtly—but usually without comment—altered the concept by stressing the contradictoriness and malleability of cultural meanings and by seeking out the mechanisms by which meanings were transformed.”47 Th is, Sewell points out, is more in line with some trends among certain anthropologists who emphasize the performative and changeable character of culture (much like my observations about the changeability of ethnicity and identity). Th ese anthropologists see culture less in terms of symbols and more in terms of tools that are called upon in particular situations and with particular aims in mind. Sewell suggests that both the “system” and “practice” approaches may be understood as complementary in certain respects, and I adopt this view:

Th e employment of a symbol can be expected to accomplish a particular goal only because the symbols have more or less determinate meanings. . . . Hence practice implies system. But it is equally true that the system has no existence apart from the succession of practices that instantiate, reproduce, or—most interestingly—transform it. Hence system implies practice.48

44. Gleason 1991, 399–400; cf. Meyers 1984, 8, 11. 45. Geertz 1973, 89. 46. Cf. Geertz 1973; Sewell 1999; Spillman 2007. 47. Sewell 1999, 45. 48. Sewell 1999, 47. Introduction 13 Certain theories and conceptual tools that have been developed in the study of culture, migration, and ethnicity are useful in understanding interactions between a given ethnic group or cultural minority group and other groups in surrounding society. Issues of identity are once again central in such interactions. Benmayor characterizes migration as “a long-term if not life-long process of negotiating identity, diff erence, and the right to fully exist and fl ourish in thenew context. . . . [T]he experience and eff ects of migration are long-term and critical in shaping and reshaping both collective and individual identities.”49 Anthropologists, sociologists, and social psychologists oft en explain such processes of negotiation in the place of sett lement using theories of acculturation and assimilation. At the outset I should acknowledge that my own exploration into these social-scientifi c methods was inspired, in part, by two scholars who usefully apply similar insights in studying ancient Christians and Judeans respectively: David Balch (1986) shows the value in understanding the household codes in 1 Peter in terms of acculturation, and Barclay (1996) engages in an excellent study of assimilation among diaspora Judeans, particularly though not solely in connection with literary sources. Th eories of assimilation and acculturation deal with processes that take place when two groups come into contact with each other, with resulting changes in the boundaries and cultural ways of either or both groups. In chapters 6 and 7, I expound a particular framework for assessing such processes among Syrian and Judean immigrant or ethnic groups based on the works of Milton Yinger, Martin N. Marger, John W. Berry, and others. Th ere I explain three main clusters of concepts relating to (1) cultural assimilation, or acculturation; (2) structural assimilation, which has both formal and informal dimensions; (3) and dissimilation (diff erentiation) or cultural maintenance.50 Processes of assimilation and dissimilation take place at both the individual and group levels, resulting in the renegotiation of boundaries between a given cultural minority group or its members and other groups within their contexts. So issues of group identities and boundaries are bound up in this area of analysis. Concepts relating to dissimilation or cultural maintenance are particularly important to emphasize since these refl ect a turn away from older models of assimilation in sociology. Certain older models, which are not the basis of the present study, tend to assume the ultimate disintegration of ethnic or cultural minority group boundaries and, with them, the vanishing of distinctive cultural practices in relation to the majority culture. Closely related is the tendency to view acculturation as a one-way process rather than a cultural exchange. Similar methodological problems are also noted in recent studies of the concept of “Romanization” (a specifi c approach to acculturation in the Roman era) specifi - cally. As Jane Webster (2001) stresses in her survey of the literature on the concept of Romanization, we need a more sophisticated approach to cultural exchanges in antiquity that does not assume adoption of Roman practices as the principal mode of

49. Benmayor and Skotnes 1994, 8. 50. Berry 1980; Yinger 1981; Marger 1991, 117–20; Berry 1997. 14 Introduction acculturation in the provinces. Instead, acculturation was a process of blending, and Webster suggests that the concept of “Creolization”—developed in connection with Early Modern processes of cultural exchanges in the interaction of European peoples and Native American, African, and African Caribbean societies—bett er captures this blending element. Although I agree with the problems that Webster identifi es, I nonetheless consider the concepts of assimilation and acculturation appropriate so long as we recognize the complexities of cultural exchanges which do indeed oft en involve blending and two-way interchanges. Such an approach that recognizes the multidi- mensional processes involved in cultural exchanges and the resulting “blending” factor fi ts well with the multiple and situational character of identities and ethnicities as I explained those concepts earlier.

Judeans and Christians as Ethnic Groups or Cultural Minority Groups

Th e applicability of the modern scholarly (etic) category ethnic group to gatherings of Judeans and to other immigrant groups in the ancient context may be somewhat uncontroversial. As peoples with shared notions regarding common ways of life and geographical and genealogical origins, migrant groups of Judeans, Phoenicians, and others naturally fi t under this rubric. Both ancient observers and Judeans conceived of Judeans specifi cally in terms of what a modern social scientist would consider an ethnic group. In this connection, it is important to note where I stand in current scholarly debate regarding the most appropriate way to translate the term Ἰουδαῖοι (Ioudaioi). Th e term is traditionally rendered “Jews” but rendered “Judeans” throughout my study when referring to subjects in the Hellenistic and Roman eras, up to at least the third century ce. I agree with recent scholarly contributions by Esler (2003), Mason (2007), and Barclay (2007), who argue that “Judeans” is the most accurate and most appropriate way to translate this term in the fi rst centuries.51 Th e ancient use of the term “Judeans” involves geographic, ethnic, and cultural associations with the region of Judea (tribal Judah) proper or with a broader conception of Judea (e.g., Strabo Geogr. 16.2.21; Pliny Nat. Hist. 5.15; Josephus War 2.232), encompassing Galilee and other areas historically associated with the Israelites or with the temple-state of Jerusalem in the wake of Has- monean expansion in the late second century bce.52

51. Mason (2007, 493–510) convincingly challenges the views of Schwartz (1992) and Shaye J. D. Cohen (1999, 69–106), who argued for a supposed shift from “ethnic” meanings to “religious” meanings of Ioudaioi in the Babylonian (Schwartz) and Hasmonean (Cohen) periods respectively. Now also see Elliott 2007. 52. Th is general use of the term Judeans does not preclude instances when ancient persons or authors use more specifi c geographic or ethnic identifi cations, such as identifi cations based on a particular district (e.g., Galilean) or city/village (e.g., Jerusalemite [IJO II 21.9]; Nazarene). When detailing peoples gathered in Jerusalem for a festival, for instance, Josephus himself distinguishes Introduction 15 Adopting this geographic, ethnic, and cultural understanding of the term helps to avoid misunderstandings among modern lay readers and some modern scholars who may tend to separate “religion” from its ethnic or cultural matrix. Along with this, what has traditionally been called “Judaism,” with implications of a religious category, is bet- ter described using terms such as Judean cultural ways, or Judean customs, or Judean approaches to honouring their God. Rather than repeating the convincing arguments of Mason and others, I instead clarify aspects of this debate at key points in subsequent chapters. Th ere is a sense in which this study, as a whole, is an argument for approaching Judeans in the diaspora primarily as one among many immigrant and ethnic groups in the Greco-Roman world (rather than as a “religious” group more specifi cally). Judean groups were immigrant groups sett led in a diaspora where certain aspects of their way of life put them in a minority position in particular cultural and social respects. Most important among these cultural practices and worldviews was the Judean tendency to honour only the God of their homeland. Unlike some other immigrant ethnic groups in the Greek cities, this entailed Judean nonrecognition of the gods of others, and nonparticipation in honouring, or sacrifi cing to, those gods in social contexts (what is traditionally called their “monotheism”). At times, this became a source of tensions with other groups and led certain people to label Judeans “atheists,” “haters of human kind,” and other more extreme charges which I explain in chapter 8. Certain ancient observers also noticed other customs of the Judeans which these observers considered peculiar, including the Judeans’ abstinence from pork, their Sabbath day of rest, their practice of circumcision, and their avoidance of images.53 Although secondary to the outstanding practice of honouring only the Judean God, these peculiarities, too, suggest ancient perceptions of Judeans that fi t with a scholarly use of the category cultural minority group. In this sense, diaspora Judean gatherings are both ethnic groups and cultural minority groups as I employ these etic concepts in this study. Despite the applicability of ethnic group and cultural minority group to Judeans, it is important to make some clarifi cations here, which will be spelled out more fully in subsequent chapters. Th e cultural landscape of the Roman Empire was signifi cantly diverse, and this diversity involved local or regional customs and peculiarities, including those of other ethnic, immigrant, or minority groups. As well, there were local cultural variations and diff erences not only from one region or people to another, but even from one Greek city to the next in the same region (see Strabo’s descriptions of local customs and practices in his Geography, for instance). Within this context, those who honoured the Judean God were not the only group of people to engage in activities that could, at times, be viewed as distinctive, peculiar, strange, or superstitious by an elite author, as Plutarch’s and Seneca’s treatises on “superstition” illustrate.54

Galileans and Idumeans from Judeans; here he is thinking of the more specifi c meaning of inhabitants of Judea proper (Ant. 17.254). 53. See the discussion in Schäfer 1997. 54. Plutarch On Superstition. Seneca’s treatise is preserved only in Augustine’s City of God: Civ. 6.10–11 (cf. Tertullian Apol. 12). Both Plutarch and Seneca include discussion of the “superstitious” 16 Introduction Seneca critiques castration practices among devotees of the Syrian goddess and Sab- bath observance among devotees of the Judean God. Interestingly enough, Seneca’s complaint about the latt er is not that “the customs of this accursed race” (as he calls them) are universally rejected or viewed as strange superstitions by the majority, but that these practices among a minority “are now received throughout all the world” (a claim that needs to be taken with a grain of salt).55 Notwithstanding certain Roman upper-class authors’ perspectives, the existence of such a range of local customs among various peoples would also mean that such variety was in some sense normal and expected among contemporaries, only some of whom would happen to be more or less familiar with the customs of the Judeans specifi cally.56 Furthermore, the list of Judean customs mentioned above that some pinpointed as distinctively Judean or as strange should not lead us to ignore the many other ways in which Judeans were indistinguishable from their neighbours in the diaspora. Shaye J. D. Cohen (1993) makes this point clearly: in respect to signifi cant factors for identity, including “looks, clothing, speech, names, or occupations,” Judeans were indistinguishable from many Greeks, Romans, and others. Th e applicability of the categories ethnic group and cultural minority group to early Christians deserves further att ention here. I would argue that, in some cases, “ethnic group” is applicable to Christian groups, or groups of Jesus-followers. Yet, in general, the scholarly, etic concept of “cultural minority group” is more appropriate in describing a signifi cant number of ancientChristian groups in the fi rst two centuries in many locales. “Ethnic group” would most obviously be appropriate in reference to groups of Jesus-followers that consisted primarily of Judeans, such as some groups that were labelled “Ebionites” by certain Christian authors.57 It is important to remember that the earliest Jesus movements began within the Judean cultural sphere, and certain groups continued to refl ect that origin more than others. In the primordial understanding of ethnicity as inborn (based on shared blood) and unchanging, which is a popular usage not adopted in this study, most other Christian groups whose membership consisted mainly of gentiles (non-Judeans) from various ethnic groups could not be described as an ethnic group at all. However, from the perspective of modern social-scientifi c defi nitions, which see ethnicity in more fl exible and ascriptive terms, some other Christian groups may well be understood within the context of ethnic identities. As I show in chapter 8, ancient

customs of those who follow the Syrian goddess, for instance (Seneca in Civ. 6.10; Plutarch Superst. 170D). Plutarch, like Seneca, pinpoints the peculiarity of the Judeans’ Sabbath observance (Plutarch Superst. 169C). 55. Trans. W. M. Green (LCL) as cited by Stern 1974–76, 1.431. 56. A general lack of knowledge about Judean ways is shown, for instance, in Josephus’s assumption that some among his educated audience of Greeks and Romans in Flavian Rome will be ignorant of Judean abstention from work on the seventh day (War 1.146), the very issue about which Seneca happens to know and complain (cf. Mason 2008, 61). 57. On such Judean followers of Jesus, see the studies in Skarsaune and Hvalvik 2007. Introduction 17 Greek and Roman observers sometimes categorized early Christian groups drawing on stereotypes that were associated with “foreign” peoples and ethnic groups. Th e perspectives of insiders are particularly important here since the modern concept of ethnic identity is defi ned in terms of the participants’ perceptions of belonging together as a people with a shared origin, fi ctive kinship, and a particular way of life. Certain early Christian authors (who were not themselves originally from Judea) describe Christian groups in terms of ethnicity, depicting the early Christians as a people or nation comparable to other ethnic groups, as recent studies by Buell (2005) and Aaron P. Johnson (2006) show so well. An early example of such discourses of ethnicity is 1 Peter, which is appropriately described as a diaspora lett er. Although some scholars suggest that 1 Peter’s language of “foreigners,” “exiles,” and “dispersion” may refer to the actual immigrant status of these Christians, many other scholars suggest it is likely that such concepts are used metaphorically to express early Christian identities in a particular way.58 Here my working hypothesis is the latt er. In this case, 1 Peter describes the identities of his addressees in the provinces of Asia Minor in terms of them being “foreigners” (πάροικοι) and “exiles in the diaspora” (παρεπιδήμος διασπορᾶς). Th e author of 1 Peter draws heavily on Judean ethnic identities to express the self-understanding of these non-Judean (gentile) followers of Jesus: “But you are a chosen race (γένος), a royal priesthood, a holy nation (ἔθνος), a people (λαός) for God’s possession. . . . Once you were no people but now you are God’s people” (1 Pet 2:9–10).59 Th e author also expresses group identity in terms of kinship, calling them a “brotherhood” (1 Pet 2:17; cf. 5:9). Here, then, a Chris- tian defi nes groups of non-Judean Jesus-followers (cf. 1 Pet 4:3–5) in terms of ethnicity, particularly drawing on discourses of Judean ethnicity. Th ey are described as though they are immigrant or ethnic groups, and he hopes his hearers will adopt a similar way of thinking about their memberships in these groups (cf. Diogn. 5.1–5). Johnson cites many similar examples of early Christian authors defi ning Chris- tians in terms of ethnicity. Among the more important ones is a passage in one of the earliest Christian apologies (defensive writings) by Aristides of Athens (early second century). Th ere Aristides speaks of Christians as kin (γένος) and a nation or people (ἔθνος) comparable to other peoples:

For it is clear to us that there are three races (genē) of humans in this world. Th ese are the worshippers of those whom you call gods, the Jews [Judeans] and the Christians. And again, those who worship many gods are divided into three races: the Chaldaeans, the Greeks and the Egyptians. For these have become the founders and teachers of the veneration and worship of the many-named gods to the other nations (ethnesin; Aristides, Apol. 2.2).60

58. See, for instance, Feldmeier 1992. John H. Elliott (1990 [1981], 59–100, esp. pp. 70–72) is among those that hold to a literal understanding of the terms. 59. Trans. RSV, with adaptations. 60. Trans. Johnson 2006, 6. 18 Introduction Elsewhere Aristides claims common ancestry for Christians and traces their “genealogy” from Christ (Apol. 15; cf. Justin Dial. 123.9). It is also noteworthy that an early Christian author such as Aristides would group together and closely ally Judeans and Christians as peoples who do not “worship many gods” (monolatrists or monotheists) in contradistinction from those peoples that did (polytheists). A minority cultural position is contrasted to the majority position. Johnson, who also fully explores such ethnic argumentation in a writing by Eusebius, concludes that

[e]thnic (or national) identity played a fundamental role in the ways in which Christians argued and articulated their faith. When Christian apologists went about the task of defending themselves within this conceptual framework, the “others” with whom they engaged were all seen as the representatives of distinct peoples, nations, or ethnicities. Th ese apologists, therefore, defi ned Christianity as the way of life of a particular people whose strong roots in the distant past were superior to the other peoples from whom they marked themselves off .61

So there are good reasons to consider certain early Christians within the context of ethnic identities and rivalries in antiquity, at least in the case of those that did adopt such discourses of identity construction. “Cultural minority group” is another closely related, though broader, concept which may be even more applicable to many Christian congregations in the fi rst two centuries. My use of the term is less technical than it is descriptive, and I employ it in a way that is meant to draw att ention to the fact that Christian congregations were not the only minority groups in the Greco-Roman world, something that I underline in subsequent chapters. In the case of groups of Jesus-followers in most locales in the fi rst two centuries, these groups were in the minority with respect to their rejection of sacrifi cing to the Greek or Roman gods. Quite oft en this cultural choice was noticed and highlighted by outsiders and insiders, who sometimes recognized that these practices derived in some way from Judean customs (with some exceptions, such as certain “gnostic” Christian groups or Marcionite groups). As Michele Murray (2004) documents so well, there is also considerable evidence of the continuing involvement of certain gentile Jesus-followers in the activities of diaspora synagogues, including att ending synagogue and celebrating Judean festivals.62 Th e adoption of honouring the Judean God (and his messiah) and the rejection of recognizing and sacrifi cing to the gods of surrounding peoples in the majority culture was a highlighted feature of the cultural practices of many Christian congregations, both in terms of internal self-definition (e.g., 1 Th ess 1:9–10; 1 Pet 4:1–5) and in terms of external categorizations (e.g.,

61. Johnson 2006, 6. 62. Cf. Dunn 2008, 2: “Writers such as Justin, Origen, Aphrahat, and Chrysostom had to warn Christians forthrightly on the subject. Th e Councils of Antioch (341) and Laodicea (363) explicitly prohibited Christians from practicing their religion with Jews, in particular from celebrating their festivals with them.” Introduction 19 “atheists,” as in Mart. Poly. 3.2; 9.2). Th is highlighted feature sometimes played a role in social harassment or persecution of members of these minority groups, as I discuss in chapter 8.63 In using this more general descriptive term in reference to Christian groups, I am quite self-consciously avoiding a more specifi c and common etic categorization of Christian groups using the sociological concept of the “sect.” In Associations, Syna- gogues, and Congregations (2003a), I have explained what I see as some key problems in the wholesale application of sect typologies to early Christian groups, and I do return to some of these issues in subsequent chapters. Th e purpose in my calling many Chris- tian congregations “cultural minority groups” is not to make the same mistake in lump- ing all Christian groups together as though they were the same in contradistinction to other groups in that societal context. Rather, this terminology helps us to recognize that certain Christian congregations, like some other ethnic or cultural minorities in specifi c locales, were in the minority with respect to certain highlighted cultural practices. It is also important to stress that, despite this shared minority position based on rejection of the gods of others, there were nonetheless considerable diff erences from one Christian congregation to the next with respect to various other cultural and other factors. Th is internal diversity among Christian congregations despite a shared minority position in other respects will become clear as we proceed. Furthermore, circumstances would change over time and diff er from one locale to another, and as Christianity became more prominent in particular locales into the third and fourth centuries, the descriptor “cultural minority” would no longer be appropriate. So in certain ways both Judean gatherings and Christian congregations can be studied as instances of cultural minority groups in cities of the Roman Empire whose perceived distinctiveness arose—to varying degrees—from Judean cultural connections (e.g., honouring the Judean God and drawing on similar Judean scriptural traditions associated with that God).64 Th e degree to which these distinctive cultural practices were highlighted, or overlooked in favour of shared cultural ways, would depend on the situation and on the particular people involved, both insiders and outsiders. Th is cultural minority position makes it particularly appropriate to employ modern social-scientifi c tools for assessing acculturation and assimilation in studying both Judean gatherings and Christian congregations, even though many of the latt er were not ethnic or immigrant groups. In other words, as with Judeans who were also minority groups, we can address Christian congregations in terms of members’ enculturation into the minority group, on the one hand, and acculturation or dissimilation in relation to aspects of majority cultures, on the other. Members of Christian congregations would be enculturated to varying degrees into the ways of the minority group. Th ese members, or the group as a whole, would assimilate or dissimilate in relation to certain aspects of life in the cities of the Roman Empire. Th e more precise balance of each of these two factors would diff er from one Christian group or individual to the next.

63. See Harland 2003a, 239–264. 64. Cf. Stowers 1995. 20 Introduction Overview of This Study

Now that we have some sense of my social-historical approach and my theoretical framework, let me briefl y outline the progression of this study. In important respects, both diaspora Judeans and followers of Jesus shared much in common with other associations when it comes to dynamics of identity and belonging. Part 1 introduces associations and explains how both Judean gatherings and Christian congregations were oft en viewed as associations, both by insiders (e.g., Philo and Josephus) and by outsiders (e.g., Roman authorities, Lucian, and Celsus; ch. 1). Followers of Jesus, such as Ignatius of Antioch, further illustrate how Christians themselves could express their identities in terms drawn from local cultural life, including the world of associations (ch. 2). Here external categorizations by outsiders and internal self-defi nitions by insiders overlap in processes of identity formation and negotiation. In part 2, I explore internal defi nitions of identity with a focus on familial language of belonging among members in certain groups. Quite well known is the early Christian use of sibling language (“brothers”) to express and strengthen bonds within congregations. Contrary to assumptions within scholarship, however, this practice was not uniquely Christian, and epigraphic and papyrological evidence shows that “brother” language was also used within some other groups and associations (ch. 3). Furthermore, parental language, such as “mother of the synagogue” or “father of the association,” was another important way in which members within Judean gatherings and other associations expressed social hierarchies and identifi ed with other members of the group (ch. 4). Th e Judean use of such parental terminology mirrors similar practices within Greek cities in the Roman Empire, pointing to one instance of acculturation to the practices of civic communities generally and associations specifi cally. In part 3, I turn to evidence for ethnically based associations of immigrants, including Judeans. Placing Judean gatherings within the framework of other, less-studied, immigrant associations and cultural minority groups provides new perspectives on dynamics of identity maintenance and acculturation. Th e case of associations formed by Phoenicians or Syrians abroad illustrates the value of comparing immigrant populations and ethnic groups within this milieu (ch. 5). A regionally focussed study of Judeans at Hierapolis in Asia Minor then off ers further insights into the complexity of interactions between cultural minorities and other groups within cities in the Roman Empire, including processes of assimilation and cultural maintenance (ch. 6). Finally, in part 4 I turn to evidence for tensions and competition in intergroup relations. I show how rivalries and external categorizations play a role in the formation, negotiation, and expression of identities. Cohabitation and cooperation among various groups in the ancient city did not preclude rivalries among associations, such as those in cities addressed by John’s Apocalypse (ch. 7). In Sardis and Smyrna, for instance, associations of various kinds could express their identities in ways that coun- tered other groups. Such groups were, in some respects, competitors for the allegiances of members. Evidence for certain individuals’ memberships in multiple associations Introduction 21 draws further att ention to the plural nature of identities in the ancient context, as well as the potential for links among groups through certain individuals’ social networks. In the case of Greek and Roman perspectives on foreigners or cultural minority groups, such as Judeans and followers of Jesus, ethnic rivalries and processes of identity formation could take place, in part, through stereotypes of the “alien” other and the portrait of the “anti-association” (ch. 8). Charges of human sacrifi ce, cannibalism, and incest which were laid against certain Christian groups and other cultural minorities are bett er understood within this ethnographic framework. Sometimes cultural minorities themselves engaged in analogous characterizations of the majority culture (or of associations in the majority culture). Furthermore, similar techniques were also used in rivalries between diff erent cultural minority groups, such as the rivalries that took place among various Christian groups (orthodox groups vs. heretical groups). Th ese ethnographic discourses were, in themselves, part of ongoing processes of internal self-defi nition and external categorization in relation to the “other” on the part of a given cultural group, whether in the majority or in the minority. Moreover, depending on the perceiver and the moment of perception, Judean gatherings and Christian congregations could be viewed as either typical associations or “foreign” anti-associations. Giving att ention to both sides of this dynamic, this study places Judeans and their close relatives, the followers of Jesus, within the framework of identity formation, negotiation, and communication in the Greco-Roman world.

Part 1

Judean and Christian Identities in the Context of Associations

Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians

Introduction

In this chapter, I argue that certain social dimensions of group life among Judean (Jew- ish) gatherings and Christian congregations, including issues of identity, are bett er understood when we place these groups within the framework of unoffi cial associations in the Greco-Roman world. Despite their position as cultural minority groups, synagogues and congregations should not be studied in isolation from analogous social structures of that world. Th is is something that certain scholars are increasingly recognizing, especially since the 1980s.1 Still, in categorizing many Judean gatherings and Christian congregations as associations, I am going against the grain of a more common scholarly categorization in social-historical studies of Christian origins. It has become standard—one might even say orthodox—within scholarship on early Christianity to categorize virtually all congregations of Jesus-followers, and sometimes Judean gatherings as well, as “sects” in terms drawn from modern sociological studies, particularly studies by Bryan R. Wilson.2 In some cases, scholars who categorize these groups as sects are hesitant about the value of comparing synagogues and congregations with contemporary associations, stressing supposed diff erences between the groups precisely concerning the relationship between the group and society.3 Th e emphasis in such sectarian categorizations is oft en placed on the negative or ambivalent social relations that existed between the sect and surrounding society. Discourses of separation and distinction predominate.4 Th ere may be benefi ts to viewingsome minority groups or associations through the lenses of sociological typologies of sects in order to provide insights into certain types of social and intergroup relations. However, we should not assume that all Judean gatherings

1. On the history of scholarship, see the introduction and, more extensively, Harland 2003a, 177–212. 2. Wilson 1967, 1970, 1973, 1990. See Harland (2003a, 177–195) for further discussion of problems in the application of Wilson’s typology to early Christianity. 3. E.g., Meeks 1983, 78–80. Cf. Schmeller 1995; McCready 1996. 4. E.g., Elliott 1990 [1981], 79; Meeks 1983, 35, 77–78.

25 26 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians or Christian congregations are best categorized and understood within a typology of “sects.” As I began to show in Associations, Synagogues, and Congregations, such wholesale categorizations tend to obscure a range of evidence, and this includes the sort of evidence for integration and common modes of identity construction, negotiation, and communication that I explore throughout the present study. Alongside this overall statement regarding where Judeans and Christians fi t on a social map of the ancient Mediterranean, I draw att ention to important implications for identities in this chapter. In particular, I begin to outline the importance of both external categorizations and internal defi nitions of identity. Inthis case, there are many instances when both outsiders and insiders identifi ed Judean gatherings and Christian congregations in terms drawn from association life. So my scholarly choice to categorize these groups as associations is based, to a signifi cant degree, on how many people in the ancient context, including some Judeans and Christians, viewed such groups. I begin by defi ning associations and outlining some common social sources of association membership before turning to ancient external and internal defi nitions of Judean gatherings and Christian congregations as associations.

What Are Associations?

Basic Definition

Let me begin by clarifying what I mean by “associations” and how this relates to the concept of “voluntary associations” as it is used in the social sciences. Th en I will move on to social networks that contributed to their memberships. I use the term “associations” to describe social groupings in antiquity that shared certain characteristics in common and that were oft en recognized as analogous groups by people and by governmental institutions. Associations were small, unoffi cial (“private”) groups, usually consisting of about ten to fi fty members (but sometimes with larger memberships into the hundreds), that met together on a regular basis to socialize with one another and to honour both earthly and divine benefactors, which entailed a variety of internal and external activities. With regard to external relations, these groups engaged in ongoing connections with those outside the group, particularly with wealthier members of society who could assume the role of benefactors (donors) or leaders of the group in question. In return these benefactors received honours from the association, a system of benefaction that I explain more fully in chapter 7. Sometimes associations could also return the favour by supporting particular members of the elite in their political goals or honour-pursuing competition with others.5 Associations could on occasion interact with civic and imperial institutions or functionaries as well. Th e level and frequency of involvement in such contacts varied from one group to the next.6

5. See, for example, Philo’s discussion of Isodoros and associations in Alexandria (Flacc. 135– 45). Cf. Cicero, In Piso. 8–9; Pro Sestio 33–34; Dom. 74; Quintus Cicero, Pet. 8.29–30. On collegia and elections at Pompeii, see Tanzer 1939 and Franklin 1980. 6. On external relations of associations, see Harland 2003a, 115–76. Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians 27 Internally, associations participated in a range of activities, including honouring the gods through rituals, including sacrifi ce and the accompanying meal. Th e importance of the meal in connection with the gatherings and festivals of such groups draws att ention to the fact that what we as moderns might distinguish as “religious” (sacrifi cing to the gods) and “social” (meals) were intimately tied together in antiquity, as Stanley Stowers’s study of sacrifi ce also stresses.7 All associations were in some sense religious, and it is problematic to speak of particular groups as religious associations simply because their patron deities happen to be mentioned in their title. Associations served other functions for their membership internally, including burial-related activities, which I discuss in chapter 6.8 A variety of corporate terms for a “gathering” or “grouping,” some of which were shared within broader civic or imperial institutional contexts, were used to identify such informal groups. In the Greek-speaking areas that are the focus of this study, some common general group designations include κοινόν (pronounced koinon and translated “association” in this study), σύ νοδος (synodos, “synod”), θίασος (thiasos, “society”), συνέδριον (synedrion, “sanhedrin”), ἔρανος (eranos, “festal-gathering”), συνεργασία (synergasia, “guild”), συμβιοταί (symbiotai, “companions”), ἑταῖροι (hetairoi, “associates”), μύσται (mystai, “initiates”), συναγωγή (synagōgē, “synagogue”), and σπεῖρα (speira, “company”). Th ere were also group titles characteristic of certain cultural regions, such as δοῦμος (doumos), which was characteristic of Phrygia and Lydia (in central Asia Minor); κλῖνη (klinē), “dining-couch,” which was used of both a “banquet” and of an “association” in Egypt; and συνθείς (syntheis), which was used for “those placed together” in Macedonia.9 In Latin-speaking areas (especially in Italy and the West), one of the most well-att ested terms for an association was collegium, which is why many scholars have adopted the practice of using the plural of that term, collegia, as a designation for associations generally. Other associations developed a more specifi c title that incorporated the patron deity of the group, including names such as the Dionysiasts (in honour of the god Dionysos), the Isiasts (in honour of Isis), and the Aphrodisiasts (in honour of Aphrodite). Still, an array of other group designations, some of which we will soon encounter, shows that there was no standard approach to group titles, and the same thing can be said about variations in internal leadership titles. My defi nition of associations here seeks to distinguish these rather informal (or “private”) groups from offi cial “institutions” of the cities and provinces, from offi cial “boards” in charge of administering temples or other similar institutions, and from age-based “organizations” connected with the gymnasia (e.g., ephebes, elders), for instance. I should mention, however, that the evidence is sometimes ambiguous, and it is not always easy to clearly identify whether a particular group is a board of cultic functionaries within a god’s temple rather than a less formal group of devotees of a god. A further complication is that associations frequently designated themselves using corporate terminology shared within broader

7. Cf. Stowers 1995. 8. On internal activities, see Harland 2003a, 55–88. 9. For the fi rst term, seeTAM V 179, 449, 470a, 536. For the second, see POxy 110, 1484, 1755, 3693, 4339; Youtie 1948; NewDocs I 1; Philo Flacc. 136–37. For the third, see SEG 27 (1977), no. 267; IG X.2 288, 289, 291, all from Th essalonica. 28 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians civic and imperial contexts (e.g., koinon, synedrion, speira), which sometimes makes a group sound more offi cial or public than it actual was.

Voluntary Associations in the Social Sciences

Th ere are certain affi nities between my defi nition here and the quite broad concept of “voluntary associations” as it is used in sociology and anthropology, and yet some distinctions are important to note.10 In the social sciences, the concept of voluntary associations oft en encompasses a large spectrum of groups, referring to “secondary organisations that exist between the primary links of kinship and the equally non-voluntary arrangements of ter- tiary institutions like the state.”11 As Jose C. Moya goes on to note, defi ned in this broad way, the term has been used in reference to a spectrum of groups that have proliferated in the modern period, from local choirs or bowling leagues to neighbourhood associations, immigrant groups, and more international organizations, such as Amnesty International. According to Maria Krysan and William d’Antonio, modern voluntary associations are “independent of control from sources outside themselves, people were free to join or leave, and members established their own objectives and goals and the means to achieve them.”12 Th is intersects with ancient groups under evaluation here in the sense that they were generally not controlled by outside organizations and they did indeed establish and pursue their own goals. Yet quite oft en these goals (e.g., honouring earthly and divine benefactors) were relatively limited in comparison with those of some modern voluntary associations, such as politically focussed groups such as Amnesty International. When the same sociologists go on to explain the commonly perceived functions of modern voluntary associations, they are describing something quite diff erent from the groups we are looking at in antiquity: associations “serve an important governing role at the local level and perform tasks as varied as community decision-making, emergency relief, fund-raising, public information campaigns, and professional licensing.”13 Furthermore, it is important to heavily qualify the “voluntary” nature of the groups under examination in this study. Although there is some truth in the statement that, for many associations in antiquity, people might join or leave of their own volition, there were certain factors at work in limiting the voluntary nature of membership in associations of particular types, as I soon discuss in connection with social networks and the composition of associations. So our defi nition of associations here in this volume is more limited and specifi c, though at times it overlaps with or is encompassed within such social-scientifi c defi nitions dealing with associations in modern societies. One further observation about modern studies of voluntary associations is in order before surveying social sources of ancient associations. Much of the literature on voluntary associations in modern, developed and developing countries (e.g., North America, Africa,

10. Social-scientifi c studies of voluntary associations include Mishnun 1950; Litt le 1957; Geertz 1962; Anderson 1971; Kerri 1976; Th omson and Armer 1981; Krysan and d’Antonio 1992; Moya 2005. 11. Moya 2005, 834. 12. Krysan and d’Antonio 1992, 2231. 13. Krysan and d’Antonio 1992, 2231. Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians 29 Indonesia) is devoted to the question of the primary functions of such groups in relation to surrounding society. In particular, as Randall J. Th omson and Michael Armer (1981) clarify, scholarly debates have centred on whether voluntary associations primarily serve integration or mobilization functions in relation to society. On the one hand are studies that emphasize the role of voluntary associations in the integration or adjustment of individuals and communities within broader society, serving as “adaptive mechanisms.”14 In part, this integrative focus was a result of another assumption within the social sciences in earlier generations: namely, the notion that urban sett ings are alienating environments characterized by relative deprivation and social dislocation, especially for immigrants.15 As I discuss in chapter 5, such assumptions still impact studies of social life in the ancient world, including the study of immigrants. Th omson and Armer critique this view, which involves problematic assumptions and oversimplifi cations regarding city life that are not consistent with a range of fi ndings in other more recent social- scientifi c studies. Th is view also tends to assume that the formation of associations was primarily a means to compensate for a lack of meaningful ties, or for feelings of rootlessness in the urban milieu.16 On the other hand are social-scientifi c studies that show that “instead of integration, voluntary associations reinforce the cultural distinctiveness of various ethnic and minority groups” and serve to mobilize individuals to eff ect change in the host society.17 Despite clear diff erences between the ancient and modern contexts, Th omson and Armer’s argument here is particularly noteworthy in connection with my own fi ndings in subsequent chapters regarding associations in the ancient context, particularly ethnic groups or cultural minority groups. Th omson and Armer point to the “multifunctional and dynamic capabilities of voluntary associations” and the various types of groups and types of societal contexts. Th ey argue that “voluntary associations can serve both adjustment and mobilization functions; which is most important depends in part on the interaction between the type of organization and the dominant urban culture.”18 I continue to address the role of associations in cultural adaptation and identity maintenance in subsequent chapters.

Social Networks and the Membership of Associations

Now that we have some sense of what is meant by the term association, I turn to our ancient sources for these groups and to the question of what types of associations existed, which will also fl esh out my earlier defi nition. Sometimes there are literary sources that shed light on such groups. Still, evidence for most groups is primarily archeological, including

14. E.g., Mishnun 1950; Litt le 1957; Geertz 1962; Anderson 1971; Kerri 1976. 15. See, for instance, Wirth 1938, for the traditional view of urban life. On problems with theories of relative deprivation, see Gurney and Tierney 1982; Wallis 1975; Beckford 1975, 1530–59; Ber- quist 1995. 16. See Th omson and Armer 1981. 17. Th omson and Armer 1981, 288. 18. Th omson and Armer 1981, 288. 30 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians

Figure 1. Banqueting hall of the cowherds at Pergamon (second cent. ce)

epigraphy (inscriptions). To some extent, this is why associations have only recently begun to draw the att ention of disciplines such as New Testament studies and classical studies that, traditionally at least, privilege literary evidence. Some of the meeting places of associations have been discovered and excavated, off ering a window into aspects of the internal life of such groups, including their ritual lives. Th us, for instance, the meeting places of associations devoted to the god Dionysos have been excavated at Athens and at Pergamon, and numerous buildings have been found on the Greek island of Delos and at Ostia near Rome.19 Figure 1 shows a photo of a second- century banqueting hall of a group that honoured the god Dionysos at Pergamon, calling themselves the “cowherds” (βουκόλοι) in reference to some of the mythology of this god.20 By far the most extensive source of materials on association life comes from monuments and inscriptions.21 Th ese inscriptions include honorary plaques or monuments for benefactors, dedications to gods, internal regulations or statutes, membership lists, and grave stones that were commissioned by associations or their members. Pictured in fi gure 2 is a photograph of a monument dedicated to “Zeus Most High (Hypsistos) and the village.” Below the inscription, it depicts the gods (Zeus, Artemis, and Apollo) along with the asso-

19. See Hermansen 1981; Schwarzer 2002; Trümper 2002 and 2004; Harland 2003a, 63–69, 78–83; Ascough 2007, 82–90. 20. On these cowherds, see the following inscriptions: SEG 29 (1979), no. 1264 (found in the meeting place); IPergamon 485–88; Conze and Schuchhardt 1899, 179, no. 31. On the building, see Radt 1989 and Radt 1988, 222–28. 21. On the value of inscriptions for history, see Millar 1983; Oliver 2000; Bodel 2001. Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians 31

Figure 2. Monument depicting three gods (Zeus, Artemis, and Apollo), an association, and entertainment, fr om Panormos near Kyzikos, now in the British Museum (GIBM IV. 1007) ciation gathered for a meal as several other fi gures provide entertainment GIBM( IV. 1007). Although limited in what they tell us, such material remains nonetheless provide important information regarding social and cultural life among many segments of the population, rather than only the literary elites. Th e inscriptional evidence att ests to an array of associations, and it is important to explain the groups that are found, building on my previous work in this area. Previous typologies of associations, such as the infl uential, multivolume work of Jean-Pierre Waltz- ing (1895–1900), tended to approach categorization with issues of primary purpose in mind, resulting in a threefold typology of (1) occupational, (2) cultic, and (3) burial associations. Besides the now generally recognized embeddedness of religion within social life in antiquity, such that all associations were cultic associations, this typology is also problematic in that it implies that occupational associations were not interested in honouring the gods or in the burial of members, for example. Instead, groups of various kinds served a variety of purposes for their members, not just one. So, building on a suggestion by John S. Klop- penborg (1996a), I have proposed a typology of associations that entails att ention to the composition of membership and the role of social network connections in the formation and growth of groups.22

22. See Harland 2003a, 25–54. 32 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Social scientists have long recognised the signifi cance of social networks—intricate webs of connection that exist within a social structure—for understanding and explaining the workings of society, including the formation of social movements and groups. Th e term “social network” refers to the webs of ties and interactions among actors (individuals, groups, communities) within a social structure. Since the mid–1950s social scientists have come to use the concept of social networks as an analytical tool for studying specifi c phenomena within society in relational terms.23 Several sociologists have employed this tool in the study of modern social and religious groups, and have stressed the importance of preexisting social ties within networks for the dissemination or expansion of groups of various kinds (e.g., new religious movements, sects, and churches). For instance, in studies of the Korean-based Unifi cation Church of the Reverend Sun Myung Moon and of recruitment to Pentecostal churches it was found that, more oft en than not, prior social contacts or interpersonal connections between members of a religious group and a nonmember preceded entrance of new members into a group.24 Subsequent sociological studies, including those by Rodney Stark and William S. Bainbridge, confi rm the vital importance of linkages through social networks not only as a precondition of joining, but also as a continuing factor in explaining the social workings of a given group.25 In light of the importance of social networks for group membership, it is worth considering what webs of social linkages were at work in the ancient context.26 Several social networks, at times overlapping, framed social relations in the Greco- Roman world and played a role in the formation and growth in membership of particular associations.27 Although such networks were overlapping, there are cases when certain groups drew membership primarily from one or another of these fi ve important areas. Th ere were associations that drew membership primarily from social connections associated with (1) the household; (2) the neighbourhood; (3) the workplace; (4) the sanctuary or temple; and (5) common geographical origins or a shared sense of ethnic identity. Groups could, of course, draw membership from several of these overlapping networks, but oft en a certain set of connections seems more prevalent. First, the ties of the family and household could play a fundamental role in affi liations and in the membership of associations. Family networks encompassed a far greater set of relations in the ancient context than in modern Western societies. Household relationships seem to account entirely for the membership and existence of groups like the “initiates” of Dionysos headed by Pompeia Agrippinilla in Torre Nova, Italy (IGUR 160; ca. 160 ce).28 Th e whole range of social strata found in the ancient household or familia belonged to this group, including free, freed, and servile dependents alongside members of the imperial

23. See, for instance, Mitchell 1969, 1974; Boissevain 1974; Wellman 1983; Wasserman and Faust 1994. 24. Lofl and and Stark 1965; Gerlach and Hine 1970. 25. Cf. Stark and Bainbridge 1985, 307–324; Welch 1981; Cavendish, Welch and Leege 1998. 26. For other studies that analyze social networks in the ancient context, see White, ed., 1992, Chow 1992, and Remus 1996. 27. Th e following discussion builds on Harland 2003a, 25–53. For a recent discussion of growth in association memberships, see Ascough 2007. 28. Cf. LSAM 20, with discussion in Barton and Horsley 1981 (household-based group in Phila- delphia in Asia). Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians 33 elites such as Agrippinilla herself, who was married to the infl uential M. Gavius Squilla Gallicanus (a senator and consul who became proconsul of Roman Asia in 165 ce).29 A second important web of connections was found in the neighbourhood where one lived and worked. Th ere are several examples of ongoing associations in Asia Minor and elsewhere who drew primarily on these local links and whose identity was expressed in terms of the neighbourhood or district in question.30 Persons living or working in a particular area were more likely to refl ect similar social brackets of society, yet such neighbor- hood associations could include a mixture in terms of occupation (e.g., IPergamon 393) or gender. Th ird, social networks related to occupation could in many ways be a determining factor in group affi liations. Daily social contacts in the workshops and marketplaces could oft en develop into an occupational association or guild of a more permanent type. We know of a wide range of such associations that identifi ed themselves primarily in terms of their shared occupation, including groups of producers and dealers of foods (e.g., bakers, fi shers), clothing manufacturers (e.g., leather cutt ers, linen workers, purple-dyers), builders (e.g., carpenters, masons), other artisans (e.g., pott ers, copper-, silver-, or goldsmiths), merchants, shippers, bankers, physicians, philosophers, athletes, theatrical performers, and soldiers (e.g., associations devoted to Mithras). I would suggest that membership in such occupationally based associations was less than voluntary in the sense that there would be considerable social pressure to join with fellow-workers. Failure to join might result in some degree of alienation, with economic repercussions. At the same time, Russell Meiggs does note evidence for multiple memberships in guilds at Ostia, which also shows that engagement in a particular occupation was not necessarily a requirement for membership in a guild based on that occupation.31 Although there are clear exceptions, membership in occupational associations was predominantly male and in many cases the social makeup of a guild was rather homoge- neous in social-economic terms. Nevertheless, there are guilds that refl ect a wider spectrum of social-economic levels, such as the fishers and fi shmongers at Ephesos IEph( 20 = NewDocs V; 50s ce). Th is group, together with their families, contributed towards the building and dedication of the fi shery toll-offi ce, and they set up a monument that is pictured in fi gure 3. eTh one hundred (or so) contributors included Roman citizens (about forty-three to forty-four members) and a mixture of persons of free or freed (about thirty- six to forty-one) and servile status (about two to ten). Th e donors are listed in order of the size of donation ranging from the Roman citizen who could aff ord to provide four marble columns to those who could aff ord to give fi ve denaria or less. Fourth, social contacts arising from regular att endance at a particular temple or sanctuary could become the basis for an ongoing association. Harold Remus’s (1996) study of social networks at Asklepios’s healing sanctuary at Pergamon, as refl ected in the works of Aelius Aristides, demonstrates well the complicated webs of connection that formed in such a sett ing. Th ese connections could also be translated into associations such as the

29. See Vogliano 1933; Scheid 1986. 30. See, for instance, IEph 454, 3080; IGR IV 788–91 (Apameia, Phrygia); IPergamon 393, 424, 434; ISmyrna 714. 31. Meiggs 1960, 321–22. 34 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians

Figure 3. Monument set up by fi shermen and fi shmongers at Ephesos, now in the Selçuk Archaeo- logical Museum (IEph 20; 50s ce)

“therapeutists” (θεραπευταί) att ested at this sanctuary at Pergamon. Some, though not all, groups of initiates in the mysteries, including some discussed in the next chapter, may have formed from sanctuary-related networks. A fi hft important set of social links were those established among immigrants or in connection with common geographical origins, ethnicity, or cultural minority positions. Th is type of ancient association may also be understood in relation to social-scientifi c concepts of ethnic groups and cultural minorities, which I defi ned in the introduction.32 Th ere were various associations of immigrants from Rome and Alexandrians who had resett led in cities in other provinces, for instance (e.g., IPerinthos 27–28; IGR I 446). In chapter 5, I devote signifi cant att ention to Syrians or Phoenicians who migrated elsewhere and formed associations. Gatherings of Judeans, which occupy us considerably in this study, need to be placed alongside these other ethnically based associations. While this type of association may be formed in connection with shared ethnic identity or minority cultural practices,

32. For social network studies of ethnic groups in the modern context, see Sanders 2002, 329–31. Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians 35 these associations could also come to include participants or members from other ethnic groups. Some Judean associations happen to illustrate the interplay of the fi ve overlapping webs of networks that I have outlined above. Secondary to links associated with ethnic identifi cation, several other subsets of social connections could be operative in the formation and membership of particular immigrant or minority groups. At Rome, three Judean associations derive their names from the neighbourhood where they lived (Calcaresians, Campesians, and Siburesians) and two appear to be founded by Judeans who shared in common previous sett lement in Greek cities elsewhere (“Tripolitans” and the “synagogue of Elaia”).33 Both neighbourhood and occupational networks played a role in the organization of the Judean population at Alexandria as well, and Shaye J. D. Cohen discusses several other locales where we know of neighbourhoods being specifi cally identifi ed as Judean.34 Th e interplay of various social networks also means that it was possible for those who did not initially share the minority cultural position or ethnic identity of a particular group to become involved in some way within such minority groups, potentially becoming ongoing participants or members. Non-Judeans (gentiles) joining Judean associations is a case in point. Yet further on I discuss similar interactions between Syrian groups and outsiders who could att end meetings and join in honouring the deities of the ethnic group. Th is also has implications for Christian associations as cultural minority groups of a Judean variety, associations that nonetheless came to incorporate members with varying ethnic identities. So multiple networks, corresponding to a plurality of identities, could be at work in the formation of certain associations. Th ese same social networks seem to have played a role in the formation and growth of Christian associations. A patt ern of recruitment and communal gathering in Paul’s lett ers and in Acts suggests the importance of family-based networks: again and again an entire family of dependents was baptized along with the head of the household and the home was used as a meeting place.35 Th ough Acts may exaggerate the point, social connections related to ethnicity served as an avenue for the spread of Christianity, as Judean networks in the diaspora coincided with the movement of fi gures such as Paul. Occupational networks, too, were important for early Christianity.36 Richard S. Ascough (2000) shows that the Christian group at Th essalonica in the mid-fi rst century may be considered a professional guild of hand-workers, for instance (cf. 1 Th ess 2:9; 4:9–12). Although we should not take at face value Celsus’s characterization of the Christian movement as a whole as predominantly lower class, there is truth in his observation, about a century aft er Paul, that att achments through workshops of “wool-workers,” “shoemakers,” and “clothing-cleaners” continued as a source of newcomers to some Christian groups (Origen C. Cels. 3.55).

33. For the former, see IEurJud 69, 98, 165, 558, 584 (Calcaresians = “Lime-burners” district); 288, 560, 577 (Campesians); 338, 428, 451, 452, 527, 557 (Siburesians). For the latt er, IEurJud 406, 576 (Elaia); 166 (Tripolitans). Also see Leon 1995 [1960], 135–66; Richardson 1998. 34. Cf. Philo Flacc. 55; CPJ III 454, 468; Kasher 1985, 352–53; Cohen 1999, 56–58. 35. Acts 11:14; 16:15; 18:8; cf. 1 Cor 16:19; Phlm 2; Rom 6:10–16; Col 4:15. 36. Cf. Hock 1980; Humphries 1998, on the importance of trade networks in the dissemination of Christian and other groups in Italy. 36 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Group Designations and Identity: Judean and Christian Groups as Associations

What we as social historians look for and notice in studying such groups is not necessarily what an ancient Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Syrian, or Judean would notice. For instance, even the typology of associations based on social network connections outlined above in some respects represents the outsider (etic) perspective of a scholar, not necessarily the insider (emic) perspective of the subjects we are studying. And when we call an early Chris- tian congregation a “cultural minority group” or a Judean gathering an “ethnic group,” we are once again using etic categories, not concepts that were used by our historical subjects. Such scholarly constructs assist us in understanding and explaining social phenomena in our terms. Nonetheless, there is considerable evidence that people in the ancient world—both outsiders and members of the groups in question—did indeed notice the analogous nature of associations of various kinds, even if they would not develop a typology based on social networks such as the one outlined above. Th is adds a further dimension to our own categories and comparisons. Such evidence of comparisons in the ancient world is particularly valuable for approaching issues of group identity since it involves cases where the two main sources of identity construction and negotiation are at work, where ancient external categorizations and internal defi nitions of the group intersect or overlap considerably. Ancient observers, on the one hand, and both Judeans and followers of Jesus, on the other, sometimes used common social and cultural categories drawn from association life to describe group identities. Th is was done alongside other more specifi c or distinctive terms of identifi cation that are not our focus in this chapter, and which varied from one association to the next. Let me illustrate these common categories and group designations here before going on to detail one specifi c case of internal self-defi nition from the lett ers of Ignatius of Anti- och in the following chapter. Here the focus is on outlining common group designations. I am by no means making any Herculean att empt to discuss the myriad self-identifi cations or external categorizations (some of them strongly negative, as we will see in chapter 8) that were used in reference to Judeans or Christians. I begin with designations of Judean groups generally. Th en I move on to groups of Jesus-followers, groups that shared in common some degree of connection with certain Judean cultural ways and the Judean God. In each case I begin with external categorizations by contemporaries before considering internal self-designations that overlap with common association terminology. On the Judean side, both Philo of Alexandria (early fi rst century) and Josephus of Jerusalem (late fi rst century, born in 37 ce) supply us with information regarding both external and internal defi nitions and corporate designations for groups of Judeans in the diaspora. As Judean authors writing to Greek-speaking audiences in the Roman period, Josephus’s and Philo’s own characterizations of Judean groups are already informed by Greek or Roman categorizations, I would suggest.37 So, in certain ways, they may refl ect

37. Note, for instance, Josephus’s characterization of educated Judean groups in the homeland as “philosophies,” using Greek philosophical debates about the soul and about Fate as his focal points (Ant. 18.12ff .; War 2.119). Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians 37 what some social scientists call the internalization of external categorizations. Internaliza- tion, as I mentioned in the introduction and discuss further in chapter 8, involves members of a particular group adopting, adapting, or reacting to outsiders’ labels or defi nitions of them. Josephus presents numerous offi cial statements by civic and imperial institutions that refl ect the perspectives of outsiders to some degree, including Roman imperial authorities (Ant. 14.185–267 and 16.160–78). Although these offi cial documents may already be aff ected by, or revised in accordance with, Josephus’s own apologetic (defensive) purposes, they nonetheless provide some insights into common external categorizations by Greek civic authorities or Roman imperial institutions. Josephus shows that a Judean group might be considered a “society” (thiasos). Th is term has a long history dating back to subgroups within the phratries in the Athenian sphere as early as the fi hft century bce; by the fi rst century ce, it was among the more common self-designations adopted by associations and it was used almost exclusively for associations.38 It was oft en used as a general catch-all category for associations generally, as a comment by Philo (cited below) also shows.39 Josephus preserves a lett er ostensibly from Julius Caesar to the civic institutions of the Greek city (polis) of Parion in Asia Minor, located just west of Kyzikos on the map (Ant. 14.213–16). In it, Julius Caesar refers to Judean emissaries from the Greek island of Delos who claimed that others in the cities had been preventing them from practicing their “ancestral customs and sacred practices.” Th e lett er then mentions and applies to the Parion situation previous actions by Caesar which specifi ed that, although societies were forbidden“to assemble in the city” of Rome, societies formed by Judeans specifi cally were provided an exception in response to specifi c diplomatic contacts with imperial authorities. It is important to at least note here that associations of various kinds, including the Dionysiac initiates at Smyrna whom I discuss in chapter 7, engaged in such diplomacy with civic or imperial authorities, which resulted in similar recognitions or privileges.40 So we should not always assume that the Judeans were a special case among associations in regard to such diplomatic relations, despite the participants’ claims that they were special. As Tessa Rajak has clearly established, there was no “Roman charter for the Jews,” and the problematic scholarly idea that Judeans were a specially recognized “legal religion” (religio licita) with such a charter is unfounded in ancient evidence.41 Another document presented by Josephus has a Roman offi cial, Lucius Antonius (about 49 bce), responding positively to the request of Judean ambassadors from Sardis in Asia Minor regarding their “synod” (synodos). Th e term “synod,” which has the basic meaning of a “coming together,” was used in a variety of contexts for an assembly of people and had a signifi cant range of meanings, sothe passage from Josephus involving the use of “society” (thiasos), discussed above, is stronger evidence of an association context than this

38. For discussion of the early use of the term, see Costello 1938, 178–79; Ferguson and Nock 1944, 133–34. 39. See Flacc. 136. 40. See Rajak 1984; Harland 2003a, 157, 220–24. 41. Rajak 1984; cf. Millar 1973, 145. 38 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians instance of “synod.”42 Nonetheless, synod is among the most used Greek self-designations for associations specifi cally in the Roman period, and it is likely that its use in the passage in Josephus refl ects the milieu of associations. Th ese Judeans at Sardis had apparently argued that “from the earliest times they have had a synod of their own in accordance with their ancestral laws and a place of their own” (Josephus Ant. 14.235).43 Th e Roman offi cial responded by reaffi rming this claim and, in this case, it seems that civic institutions of Sardis likewise acknowledged the claim (Ant. 14.259–61). Here it is diffi cult to sort out whether this language of “synod” was the term used by ambassadors of the Judean group themselves (internal defi nition) or by Roman offi cials (external defi nition), or by both. Whatever the case may be, it seems that the group is being described using common group-designations that were used by associations in the same context. It is worth noting some evidence that may provide insight into similar uses of this designation, “synod,” in self-defi nitionsamong Judean groups. One inscription from Nysa, located east of Ephesos, apparently confi rms the internal use of this corporate term by Judeans themselves (cf. CPJ I 138). In it, a man named Menandros had established a place “for the people and the synod (τῶι λαῶι καὶ τῇ συνόδωι) which are gathered around Dositheos son of Th eogenes.”44 Here the somewhat culturally distinctive Judean usage of “people” (λάος), as also att ested at Smyrna and Hierapolis—likely refl ecting notions of the “people of God” as in the Septuagint—is coupled with the standard use of “synod” for the group.45 If Margaret H. Williams’s recent interpretation of a fragmentary papyrus from late Ptolemaic Egypt (fi rst cent. bce) is correct, then we have another case involving a guild of Judean “embalmers” (ἐνταφιασταί / συνταφιασταί) that designated itself a “synod” and met in a “prayer house” (προσευχῆι) for its meetings (the term συναγωγῆ is used for its “meeting”).46 Other Judean groups who did not necessarily adopt “synod” as a main group designation nonetheless could use the term in reference to a regular meeting of the group, as with the corporate body of Judeans in Berenice in Cyrenaica, to which I return below.47 Further evidence of both external and internal defi nitions comes from Philo. In these cases, too, “synod” is a common designation which is linked closely with the more distinctive “society” (thiasos) and with imperial actions in relation to such associations. Philo was himself among the fi ve Judean ambassadors to Emperor Gaius (in 38 or 39 ce) in connection with ethnic confl icts in Alexandria.48 Philo records the essence of his speech in

42. Josephus himself uses the term “synod” twenty-fi ve times but it does not have any stable, technical sense in his writings (I am grateful to Steve Mason for his suggestions in this area). 43. Trans. Marcus 1933–63 (LCL). 44. IJO II 26 = DFSJ 31 = Robert 1960c, 261 (fi rst cent. bce, according to Ameling 2004, in IJO). 45. IJO II 44 (Smyrna), 206 (Hierapolis). Also see the discussion in Noy, Panayatov, and Bloedhorn 2004, 109–10, regarding the phrase “farewell to the people” at Larissa in Th essaly (IJO I Ach 1–4, 8–14, 25; probably third or fourth cent. ce). On the connection with the “people of God,” see Robert 1960c, 260–61. 46. Williams 1994b, 174. For the repeated reference to “the synod,” see lines 4, 8, and 16. For the fragmentary mentions of the embalming occupation, see lines 10 and 13. On various names for burial related occupations in Egypt, see Youtie 1940, 650–57. 47. Reynolds 1977, 244–47, no. 17 (line 24) and no. 18 (line 16). Cf. Rajak 2002 [1996], 382. 48. On these confl icts see Barclay 1996, 48–59; Schäfer 1997, 163–69. Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians 39 a writing titled the Embassy to Gaius. Th ere he appeals to the positive actions of Gaius’s great-grandfather, Augustus himself, as a precedent for Gaius to follow in siding with the Judeans of Alexandria over against the Greeks. In support of his position, Philo cites two documents refl ecting positive diplomatic relations between Romans and Judeans which once again reveal external categorizations. Th e second document involves a lett er by Gaius Norbanus Flaccus, the proconsul of Asia, to the civic magistrates of Ephesos (dating ca. either 24 bce or 12 bce). 49 Philo suggests that this refl ects the perspective of Augustus as well (cf. Josephus Ant. 16.166, 171). In this case, Philo fi rst quotes portions of the lett er before paraphrasing its essence in this way: Augustus “did not think that the form generally adopted about synods should be applied to do away with the gatherings of the Judeans to which they resort for collection of the fi rst- fruits and their other pious activities” (Leg. Gai. 316).50 As Torrey Seland (1996) points out, elsewhere Philo employs the term “synod” as one among several synonyms for a general concept of associations, a general concept which he identifi es using the term “societies”: “In the city there are societies (θίασοι) with a large membership . . . “Synods” and “dining couches” (σύνοδοι καὶ κλῖναι) are the particular names given to them by the people of the country” (Flacc. 136). Th e fi rst document cited by Philo is Augustus’s lett er to the governors of the provinces of Asia (likely the provinces of Asia Minor are in mind). Here Philo paraphrases the let- ter and suggests that Augustus proclaimed that “Judeans alone be permitt ed by them [the governors] to assemble in synagogues (τὰ συναγώγια συνέρχεσθαι). Th ese synods, he said, were not based on drunkenness and carousing to promote conspiracy . . . but were schools of temperance and justice” (Leg. Gai. 311–13). Here the point is that Judean gatherings are called not only “synagogues” but, once again, “synods,” and Philo himself compares the groups to the advantage of Judean associations. Th is suggests the importance of “synods” and the associations generally for internal Judean self-defi nition, despite the occasions on which authors like Philo engaged in moral critique of the associations of others, to which I return in chapter 8. Diaspora Judeans like Philo sometimes considered associations as the framework within which to defi ne themselves, it seems, at least in addressing Greek or Roman audiences. Not surprisingly, in light of the rivalries that existed among associations, there were claims of superior status for the Judean associations nonetheless, both in Josephus and in Philo. Th is picture of Judean gatherings viewed as associations is confi rmed by internal designations in the inscriptions, which may also refl ect nonelite Judean perspectives on group identity. I have already noted Judean use of the self-designation “synod” in inscriptions. Other instances suggest further that Judean groups could view and present themselves as associations. Th e evidence that has survived does not suggest consistent, empire-wide practices regarding self-designations among Judeans abroad in the fi rst centuries of the common era, and various terms were employed. “Synagogue,” one of the many Greek terms for a “gathering together,” was among the more commonly used terms for a Judean gathering, especially in the city of Rome, for instance.51 As early as the fi rst century ce,

49. See Millar 1966, 161 (who prefers 12 bce) and Rajak 1984, 113–14. 50. Trans. Colson 1929–62 (LCL). 51. E.g., IRomJud 96, 165, 189, 194, 288, 406, 542, 549, 560, 562, 576, 584. 40 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians the term “synagogue” could also be used as a designation for the building in which such a Judean gathering took place.52 Ultimately “synagogue” came to be the Judean standard in subsequent centuries, and we now regularly use it when speaking of ancient diaspora Judeans or of both ancient and modern Jewish meeting places (buildings) today. Yet it was not the only term used and it was not specifi c to Judean cultural contexts in the Hellenistic and Roman periods.53 Th e term “synagogue” and its cognates were used by other associations in various locales, pointing to shared means of group identifi cation. us,Th for instance, a group of male and female “society members” devoted to the god Zeus in Apamea (east of Kyzikos) in Bithynia set up an honorary monument for a priestess of Mother Cybele and Apollo in the “synagogue of Zeus” (IApamBith 35; likely 85 ce). Across the Marmara Sea (Propontis) from Apamea, at Perinthos (Herakleia) in Th racia, there were at least two occupational groups in the fi rst or second centuries thatadopted this designation: one a “synagogue of barbers” that included a “synagogue leader” (ἀρχισυνάγωγος) at its head and the other a “synagogue of oar-dealers.”54 Numerous associations called synods or societies at Tanais, Panticipaion, and elsewhere in the Bosporan region (north of the Black Sea), had a similar functionary (called simply a συναγωγός), who was likely in charge of arranging the sacrifi cial feasts. isTh functionary is att ested as early as the second century bce, and there is no evidence to support a Judean connection with these groups, as I discuss more fully in chapter 3.55 Th ere is considerable evidence for non-Judean synagogues or synagogue leaders from the province of Macedonia as well. Synagogue leaders are found within a collegium at Acanthus, within an association (συνθείς) devoted to Poseidon at Beroia, within a group of worshippers (θρησκευταί) devoted to Zeus Most High at Pydna, and within an association (συνθείς) at Th essalonica devoted to the god Herakles.56 From Egypt there is evidence of a “synagogue of fellow-farmers” in the Ptolemaic era, as well as a military group of horsemen headed by a synagogue leader.57 So, clearly, designating one’s group a “synagogue” was a relatively common practice in some areas, a practice that also happened to be adopted by some Judean gatherings, ultimately becoming the prominent term. Many other group titles were used by Judeans themselves and some likewise overlap with those adopted by other associations. When we compare Judean self-designations to

52. See John S. Kloppenborg’s (2000) discussion of the Th eodotus inscription (CIJ 1404) from Jerusalem, which most likely dates before 70 ce (contra Howard Clark Kee 1995). 53. Th e most common term for meeting places of Judeans in Hellenistic Egypt, on the other hand, was “prayer house” (προσευχή) (e.g., IEgJud 9, 13, 22, 24, 25, 27, 28, 117, 125, 126). It seems that this usage was particular to Judeans (see the notes by Horbury and Noy in IEgJud 9 and 126). 54. IGR I 782; IPerinthos 59, on which see Robert 1937, 261 (fi rst or second cent. ce). Cf. IGLSkythia I 58. 55. See Ustinova (1999, 190–91, 196, 203–39), who convincingly challenges Levinskaya’s (1996) conjecture of Judean infl uence. Cf. Ascough 2003, 71–81. 56. CIG 2007f (second century); SEG 27 (1977), no. 267; NewDocs I 5 (250 ce); IG X.2 288–89 (154 ce). Cf. SEG 42 (1992), no. 625 (90/91 ce) also from Th essalonica. For associations in Macedo- nia, see Ascough 2003. 57. SB 7457; IFayum I 9 (80–67 bce). Cf. IAlexandriaK 91–92 (ca. 4–5 ce); SB 4981, 7307; Brashear 1993, 12–18. Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians 41 those of other ethnic groups specifi cally, thereare at least two crossovers beyond those noted for associations generally. We lack evidence for a standard terminology adopted by associations based on common geographic origin, but the term for “sett lement” or “those sett led” (οἱ κατοικοῦντες) is among the bett er att ested ones. Th is was a favourite identifi cation used by associations of sett lers from the city of Rome, especially those sett led in Asia Minor, and it is att ested in connection with Tyrians who migrated to Puteoli in Italy.58 So it is not surprising to fi nd at least one second-century Judean group, which I discuss in chapter 6, adopting local cultural practice by identifying itself as the “sett lement of the Judeans who are sett led in Hierapolis” (IJO II 205). Another term used by associations of immigrants, as well as Judean groups, was bor- rowed from civic and military contexts. Politeuma (πολίτευμα) or “corporate body” was sometimes used as a term for a civic body of those in charge, either the ruling class or the citizenry, at least at Cyrene in Cyrenaica and on the Aegean island of Chios.59 It was also used for sett lements of immigrants or, especially in the Hellenistic period, for military colonies based on ethnic identity. Th e papyri recently published by James M. Cowey and Klaus Maresch (2001) provide a Judean example of the sort of ethnic-based military sett lements established under Ptolemaic rule in Egypt, in this case at Herakleopolis (ca. 144–132 bce).60 Th ere were also groups of soldiers from Kaunos, Termessos, and Pinaria at Sidon who designated themselves a “corporate body,” for instance. 61 Furthermore, as Constan- tine Zuckerman (1985/88) and Gert Lüderitz (1994) show, the term was used of regular associations including “corporate bodies” of Phrygians at Alexandria and of devotees of the goddess Sachypsis in the Fayum in Egypt.62 I would suggest that this is the associational framework in which to understand the group of Judeans at Berenice in Cyrenaica in the fi rst century ce who employed somewhat interchangeably the designations “the corporate body of Judeans in Berenice” and “the synagogue of Judeans in Berenice.”63 Th is is not the place to rehearse studies by Zuckerman (1985/88) and Lüderitz (1994) except to say that they have clearly disassembled an unfounded scholarly theory espoused by Mary Small- wood and others. Th is problematic view (as espoused by Smallwood) asserts that “politeuma was a recognized, formally constituted corporation of aliens enjoying the right of domicile in a foreign city and forming a separate, semiautonomous civic body, a city within

58. IGR IV 785–86, 788–91, 793–94; MAMA VI 177 (ca. 65–69 ce), 183; OGIS 595 = CIG 5853 (Tyrian merchants at Puteoli). Cf. CIG 2287. 59. See Lüderitz 1994, 185–88; cf. Ascough 2003, 77–78, regarding Paul’s use of the term in Phi- lippians 3:20. 60. I am indebted to Giovanni Bazzana, who pointed me to the recently published Herakleo- polis materials. 61. For other “corporate bodies” of foreign soldiers in Egypt, see SB V 8757 (120 ce); IFayum II 121 (from Philadelphia; 93 ce); PTebtunis 32 (145 bce); IFayum 15 (third to fi rst cent. bce); SB III 6664 (165–145 bce; from Xois, near Alexandria). Cf. OGIS 145 (146–116 bce), involving Ionians on Cyprus. 62. Macridy 1904 = Mendel 1912–14, vol. 1, nos. 102–8 (politeumata at Sidon); IAlexandriaK 74 (Phrygians). 63. Reynolds 1977, 242–47, nos. 16, 17, 18. For a translation and discussion of no. 17, see Harland 2003a, 224–25. I do not agree with Lüderitz’s (1994, 210–22) conjecture, based on the voting procedures in the inscriptions, that the usage at Berenice is an anomaly in relation to the usual usage of “corporate body” for an association. 42 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians the city. . . . It had to be offi cially authorized by the local ruler or civic body, presumably by a writt en charter.”64 Instead, in many cases (particularly in the Roman imperial era) the term politeuma is a synonym for “synod” and related terms for an association, not a “public” institution as held in the scholarly tradition.65 So smaller gatherings of Judean groups in the diaspora could be viewed as synods, societies, and synagogues, and their members could communicate their own internal identifi cations drawing on the model of the association. It is not surprising, therefore, to fi nd a similar situation in the case of Jesus-followers, who, at least in some cases, could be viewed by outsiders as obscure groups with Judean cultural connections (e.g., Tacitus Ann. 15.44). Several Greek and Roman literary sources show that the world of associations oft en came to mind when outsiders encountered the litt le-known groups of Jesus-followers. Robert Wilken (1972, 1984) and, more recently, Richard S. Ascough (1998) have surveyed at some length the models that were at work in how Greek and Roman outsiders viewed groups of Jesus-followers, including the synagogue, the philosophical school, the mysteries, and the association. Here we want to focus on cases when the association informed external or internal defi nitions of Christian identity. One of the earliest Roman descriptions of Jesus-followers is Pliny the Younger’s correspondence with the emperor Trajan. In about 110 ce, Pliny was appointed governor (leg- ate) of the province of Bithynia and Pontus in northern Asia Minor. Pliny’s appointment was special, as there were numerous perceived administrative and other problems in the cities of the province, and Pliny was sent to clean things up. As part of his ongoing activities, this Roman governor sometimes wrote lett ers both to report on his successes and to request advice from the emperor or from other elite friends. One of these lett ers involves followers of Jesus and reveals how a member of the Roman elite might view such people. It is important to note that Pliny was familiar with the associational tendencies of populations in Asia Minor, as he refers to associations in two other lett ers involving groups at Nikomedia and at Amisos (Pliny Ep. 10.33–34, 93–94). Because of Pliny’s special appointment to correct problems specifi c to this province at this time, most of these references involve Pliny’s hesitancy about such groups, and it seems that he had passed at least one edict limiting associational activities in some way, perhaps forbidding night-time meetings. When Pliny writes to the emperor concerning those labeled “Christians” (Christiani) that had been brought before him, perhaps at Amisos or Amastris, he speaks disparagingly about them.66 He dismisses them as an upper-class Roman author would dismiss many other forms of cultural activity among the lower classes, namely, as a “superstition”—“a debased and excessive superstition (superstitionem pravam et immodicam).”67 However, at

64. Smallwood 1976, 225, also cited by Lüderitz 1994, 201. 65. Cf. Rajak 2002 [1999], 469–70; Barclay 1996, 25 n. 18, 64–65. 66. On Pliny, the Christians, and trials see, for example, de Ste. Croix 1963 and 1964; Sherwin- White 1966, 691–712; Wilken 1984, 1–30. On the label “Christian” and its eventual adoption by the followers of Jesus, see Horrell 2007. However, I do not agree with elements of his interpretation of 1 Peter with regard to the nature of persecution, and I am not as convinced that the label emerged in “legal” contexts. 67. See Tacitus Annals 15.38–44, who also speaks of following Christ as a “superstition,” and Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians 43 the same time he describes their gatherings in terms familiar from the activities of associations among the population:

they also declared that the sum total of their guilt or error amounted to no more than this: they had met regularly before dawn on a fi xed day to chant verses alter- nately amongst themselves in honour of Christ as if to a god, and also to bind themselves by oath, not for any criminal purpose, but to abstain from theft , robbery, and adultery, to commit no breach of trust and not to deny a deposit when called upon to restore it. Aft er this ceremony it had been their custom to disperse and reassemble later to take food of an ordinary, harmless kind. (Ep. 10.96.6–7)68

Also important is Pliny’s reference to an edict that he had passed regarding restrictions on meetings of associations (hetaeriae, sometimes a synonym for collegia), where he specifi cally notes that the devotees of Christ had obeyed his edict.69 Some of Christ-devotees still met together regularly, it seems, but now certain meetings (likely those held at night) were avoided. Th is suggests that both this Roman offi cial and the Christians themselves understood these groups to fall under the rubric of associations (Ep. 10.96.7–8). So here there are indications not only of external categorizations but also of internal self-defi nitions (or internalization of external categories) among these followers of Jesus in northern Asia Minor. Subsequent external categorizations of Christian groups that likewise see such groups as associations are found in the writings of Lucian of Samosata and of Celsus (both in the second century ce). In the midst of his ridiculing satire on the (once) Christian Peregri- nus, Lucian refers to Peregrinus’s time in Palestine among Christian “priests and scribes.” Lucian ridicules the Christians’ ready acceptance of this man and characterizes Peregri- nus’s authority among them by calling him: “prophet, leader of the society, and leader of the synagogue” (προφήτης καὶ θιασάρχης καὶ ξυναγωγεὺς [sic]) (Peregrinus 11). Although writing considerably later (in the early fourth century), the Christian historian Eusebius reveals that the term “society” could be used by insiders, as when he speaks of Christian congregations as “our society” (HE 10.1.8). Lucian’s description of the Christians also draws on the analogy of associations devoted to the mysteries: he labels the movement an “initiation rite” (τελετή) in referring back to “the man who was crucifi ed in Palestine because he introduced this new initiation rite into the world” (Peregrinus 11).70 In the next chapter, we will see that analogies drawn from associations that engaged in “mysteries” were also important for internal Christian self-defi nition in some cases, at least for Ignatius and the congregations he addressed in Asia Minor. In a manner similar to Lucian, the critic Celsus characterizes followers of Jesus as see the discussion of Caecilius (in Minucius Felix) in chapter 8 of this volume. Cf. Beard, North, and Price 1998, 215–27. 68. Trans. Radice 1969 (LCL). For comparable “moral” expectations of association members, compare the association devoted to Zeus and Agdistis in Philadelphia in Asia Minor (see Barton and Horsley 1981). 69. On the question of legal actions (or lack thereof) in relation to associations, see Arnaouto- glou 2002 and Harland 2003a, 161–73. 70. Trans. Harmon 1913–67 (LCL). 44 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians “members of a society” (θιασῶται; Celsus as cited in Origen C. Cels. 3.23). Sometimes Cel- sus’s critique of the Christians refl ects the same sort of general upper-class disdain for the activities of the lower strata that we saw in Pliny. Th is is the case when Celsus characterizes members of such groups as a bunch of “wool-workers, cobblers, laundry workers, and the most illiterate and bucolic yokels” (C. Cels. 3.55).71 Yet he also specifi cally complains about something that has to do with (Judean) cultural practices of these groups, rather than their social level: the Christians’ strange avoidance of “sett ing up altars, images and temples.” Celsus interprets these strange avoidances as a “sure token of an obscure and secret fellow- ship” (ἀφανοῦς καὶ ἀπορρήτου κοινωνίας) (8.17; cf. 1.1). So, as with Judean groups, Greek and Roman spectators readily categorized Christian groups—however strange they may have otherwise seemed because of certain minority cultural practices—using concepts that refl ect association life in that milieu. Unlike the internal epigraphic evidence for Judean groups generally, archeological evidence for early Jesus-followers that is distinguishable from other materials only becomes recognizable in the late second century ce.72 So our ability to compare the self-designations of associations with those of Christian groups is somewhat limited by a lack of corresponding types of material evidence. Among the archeological evidence that has been found, it is worth mentioning one building inscription from Barata, near Lystra in Lycaonia (north of Lamos, at the top of the label “Cilicia” on the map in this volume), with the Christian chi-rho symbol that does refer to “the collegium” (in transliterated Greek) with no further clarifi cation (third century or earlier).73 For the fi rst two centuries, we have to rely on specifi c Christian literary sources that refl ect identifi cation practices in only somegroups of Jesus-followers (from the perspective of those who claimed authority over them). Among the self-designations in the literature, the most common term within Pauline circles was “assembly,” or “congregation” (ἐκκλησία, oft en anachronistically translated “church”). Th is term is drawn from civic life in the Greek East, where a particular gathering or assembly of the civic institution of “the people” (δῆμος), namely, the citizen body, was frequently called an “assembly” (ἐκκλησία). Paul’s (or other Jesus-followers’) adaptation of this term from its origins in reference to an occasional assembly or meeting to an ongoing title for a group refl ects a common process that can be seen with many other associations and their titles, including the groups that came to use a general designation for a specifi c “gathering together” synag-( root words) of people as an ongoing title for the group. Th e use of “assembly” (ἐκκλησία) specifi cally is not widely att ested as a title or self- designation among other associations in the inscriptions that have survived and been found. Two inscriptions from Aspendos in Pamphylia (just inland from the Gulf of Anta- lya about half way between Tlos and Lamos on the map) may involve an association that was called an “assembly” (IGLAM 1381–82).74 Although the term does not seem to have become a widespread group self-designation, there is clear evidence that certain associa-

71. Trans. Chadwick 1953, 165 (Greek text from TLG). 72. See Snyder 2003 [1985]. 73. Laminger-Pascher 1992, no. 69. 74. See Poland 1909, 332; IGLAM 1381–82, which were fi rst noted by Heinrici 1876, 1877. I am indebted to Kloppenborg (1993, 215–16, 231), who also briefl y discusses these inscriptions. Associations and Group Identity among Judeans and Christians 45 tions did use it in reference to a specifi c“assembly” or “meeting,” as in the case of the synod of Tyrian merchants on Delos, which I discuss in chapter 5.75 In subsequent chapters, I return to some other cases where Christian groups and other associations share common terminology in processes of internal self-defi nition, particularly sibling terminology and other fi ctive familial language usedto express belonging among members. It is not entirely clear what key self-designations or titles were used by the followers of Jesus refl ected in the epistles of John, which likely involve groups in western Asia Minor.76 Only the author of 3 John happens to employ Paul’s favourite, “the assembly” (3 John 1:6, 9, 10), but there is some other suggestive language used within these lett ers that happens to intersect with internal association terminology in Asia Minor. In particular, “the elder” who authored this same lett er to Gaius closes the lett er with the following: “Th e friends (οἱ φίλοι) send you their greetings. Greet the friends there, each by name” (3 John 15). Th e collective reference to “the friends” using the article rather than a possessive (e.g., “my friends” or “your friends”) here in both cases suggests the possibility that the members of each group, the group to which the elder belonged and the group to which Gaius belonged, might term themselves, corporately, “the friends” (οἱ φίλοι). “Th e friends” (οἱ φίλοι) was not merely a common means of expressing positive connections with others within associations in Asia Minor and elsewhere. It was sometimes used as the main title for the group itself.77 We will return to some examples of association members addressing one another as “friends” in chapter 3.

Conclusion

In this chapter we have defi ned and outlined a variety of unoffi cial groups that can be discussed together as “associations.” We have found that ancient observers would group together many of the gatherings considered under the rubric of associations by a modern scholar (cf. Philo Flacc. 136). I have suggested that we can make bett er sense of these groups not by categorizing them based on supposed primary purposes, which were varied, but by thinking in terms of overlapping social networks that formed the bases of these groups, sometimes with one set of connections predominating for a particular group. In looking at both external categorizations and internal defi nitions, which are at the centre of social-scientifi c explanations of identity, we have found common ground among ancient observers and group members alike. Both could defi ne Judean gatherings and Christian congregations in terms drawn from association life generally. Th is is despite the

75. IDelos 1519, lines 1–2 = CIG 2271 = Foucart 1873, 223–25, no. 43. Similarly, a gymnastic organization (the ἀλειφομένοι) on Samos refers to its meeting as an ἐκκλησία. See McCabe 1986, no. 119 (accessible via htt p://epigraphy.packhum.org/); Poland 1909, 332. 76. See Raymond E. Brown 1979 and 1982. 77. “Th e friends”: IGLAM 798 (Kotiaion, Aezanatis valley); IIasos 116; IMagnMai 321; IDidyma 502 (a Dionysiac group); IMylasa 571–75; TAM V 93 (Saitt ai; 225 ce); ISmyrna 720; MAMA III 580, 780, 788 (Korykos); SEG 35 (1985), no. 1337 (Amastris, Pontus); IPrusaOlymp 24 (fi rst cent. ce); IAsMinLyk I 69 (Xanthos, Lycia). Cf. IG II.2 1369 (Athens; second cent. ce); IG III 1081, 1089, 1102 (Athens; ca. 120s ce; ephebes); IGUR 1169 (Rome). 46 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians fact that, in other respects, these groups could be viewed as peculiar because of certain cultural practices arising from Judean ways, such as a devotion to the Judean God to the exclusion of the gods of other peoples. Th is also suggests that these Christian associations can be viewed by a scholar as cultural minority groups alongside Judean gatherings, as I explained in the introduction. Th e shared language of identity and the comparison of associations with both Judean gatherings and Christian congregations are not surprising. Aft er all, these groups were, like the local devotees of Zeus or Dionysos or the guild of purple-dyers, groups that assembled regularly to socialize, share communal meals, and honour both their earthly and their divine benefactors. From an outsider’s perspective, this general similarity might help to make sense of what was in other respects quite strange: minority groups whose cultural ways of life included an insistence that only their god and no one else’s was deserving of their recognition or honour. From the perspective of these cultural minorities, describing oneself in terms drawn from the world of associations might simultaneously establish a sense of place within local society while also forming a basis from which to assert distinctiveness or preeminence for the group or its God. Th is twofold process of cultural adaptation and identity maintenance occupies us in subsequent chapters. 2

Local Cultural Life and Christian Identity

“Fellow-Initiates” and “Christ-Bearers”

Introduction

An individual member’s place within a group and that group’s identity in relation to surrounding society is an ongoing, shift ing process of negotiation as we are beginning to see. In the case of minority groups, such as associations of Jesus-followers, processes of negotiation entail both diff erentiating and assimilating forces. On the one hand, the self-understanding of a member or the group as a whole can be expressed in terms of distinction from common cultural categories in the majority culture. We are the precious few “holy ones,” and outsiders are the vast sea of “the wicked” who engage in morally abhorrent or perverted activities, for instance (e.g., 1 Pet 4:3–4; Philo Vit. Cont. 40–41; Leg. Gai. 311–13). On the other hand, that majority culture can supply a primary means by which identity is expressed. Specifi c concepts and categories from the majority culture or local manifesta- tions of that culture can be central to the expression of identities in a minority group. Both of these forces are oft en at work at the same time. Th e processes of internal self-defi nition and external social categorization can, at times, overlap signifi cantly, as I demonstrated in chapter 1. Th ere are clear instances when followers of Jesus in the Roman era express their identities in terms that draw on widely shared cultural categories, including categories drawn from association life. Simultaneously, these Christians could reinterpret such categories in a way that made claims regarding distinctive identity or the superiority of the group. Th e lett ers of Ignatius of Antioch, which refl ect group life in two central hubs of early Christi- anity—western Asia Minor and Syrian Antioch—provide a case in point. Ignatius draws quite heavily on categories from the culture of the Greco-Roman cities in order to build up the identity of the Christian groups, expressing their identities in terms drawn from local social and cultural life in Asia Minor. He uses several analogies and metaphors in his lett ers to speak of the identity of congregations in Roman Asia. Followers of Jesus at Ephesos, for instance, are likened to a choral group in a temple, “att uned to the bishop as strings to a lyre” (Eph. 4; cf. Phld. 1.2). Th ey are “fellow-initiates” (συμμύσται) of

47 48 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Paul that share in the “mysteries” (Eph. 12.2; 19.1; cf. Magn. 9.1; Trall. 2.3). Together they take part in a procession in honour of their patron deity, bearing images and sacred objects as groups (σύνοδοι) of “God-bearers” (θεοφόροι) and “Christ-bearers” (χριστοφόροι; Eph. 9.2; cf. Smyrn. inscript.). Th e Ephesians were by no means the only ones to hear these characterizations, however, as the lett ers of Ignatius soon circulated more widely to other groups in Asia and elsewhere (cf. Polycarp, Phil. 13.2). Over a century ago, J. B. Lightfoot devoted att ention to Ignatius’s “vivid appeal to the local experiences of an Ephesian audience,” particularly regarding the Christ-bearer metaphor and local evidence for processions.1 In doing so, Lightfoot was drawing on then recent archeological discoveries by John Turtle Wood published in 1887 (repr. 1975). Yet there is far more archeological evidence now available, evidence that provides further insight into such expressions of identity. Other scholars have since given some att ention to these metaphors, but oft en in a cursory way and rarely, if ever, with reference to local cultural life as att ested in archeological evidence from Roman Asia. William R. Schoedel’s commentary rightly understands the Christ-bearers in terms of a Greek religious procession, noting that “bearers” of sacred things can be found within this milieu (citing Plutarch, Moralia 352B, where the image is also used metaphorically). Schoedel also notes the importance of the background of the mysteries for understanding Ignatius’s use of “fellow-initiates.”2 Yet Schoedel and other scholars do not give att ention to artefactual remains that can illuminate what, concretely, these passages would spark in the imaginations of Ignatius and the addressees of his lett ers. Here I explore the cultural images Ignatius evokes, particularly with reference to associations of initiates and processions. Th is illuminates how authors such as Ignatius could express Christian identity in terms familiar from local social and cultural life, particularly association life. Specifi cally, Ι examine epigraphic evidence from Ephesos, Smyrna, Magne- sia (southeast of Ephesos), Tralles (east of Magnesia), and other cities that sheds light on what Ignatius may have had in mind. Perhaps more importantly, I explore what the listen- ers or readers of Ignatius in these cities of Roman Asia in the early second century would likely think of when Ignatius used these analogies to speak of their identities.

Fellow-Initiates and Their Mysteries

Ignatius designates the Christian assembly at Ephesos as “fellow-initiates of Paul” engaging in their own “mysteries” (μυστήρια). Th e specifi c designation fellow“ -initiates” (συμμύσται) is common for unoffi cial associations engaging in mysteries throughout Asia Minor, including those cities addressed by Ignatius, and “initiates” (μύσται) is even more widespread.3 Ignatius sustains this analogy in several of his lett ers, including those to the Magnesians and Trallians, and continues to speak of the revelation of “mysteries of Jesus Christ,” which

1. Lightfoot 1889–1890, 2:17–18, 54–57. 2. Schoedel 1985, 67–68, 72–73, 89–90. H. Paulsen’s (1985, 35–36) reworking of Bauer’s commentary adds litt le on this. 3. For “fellow-initiates” see ISmyrna 330; IStratonikeia 845–46; IApamBith 103; IPrusiasHyp 845; CCCA I 60 (Pessinos, Galatia). Local Cultural Life and Christian Identity 49 suggests this is a fairly consistent way of expressing identity. Th e mysteries he identifi es center on the (virgin) birth, death and resurrection of Jesus, as well as the celebration of these in the Lord’s Supper, which was administered by the “deacons of the mysteries” (Eph. 19.1–3; Magn. 9.1–2; Trall. 2.3). Alongside the staple ritual of sacrifi ce, mysteries (μυστήρια, ὄργια, τελετή) were among the most respected ways of honouring the gods in the Roman era.4 Th e term could encompass a variety of practices, including sacrifi ce, communal meals, reenactment of the myths of the gods, sacred processions, singing of hymns, and, of course, the revelation of holy things. Th ere was an expectation that aspects of these practices were secretive, to be fully experienced only by the initiated. In some cases, those who followed the prescribed steps towards initiation, witnessing the mysteries of a given deity, joined together in an ongoing association of initiates. In Asia Minor, it is most common to hear of mysteries in connection with Dionysos, Demeter, the Great Mother (Cybele), and Isis, but there were mysteries for other deities as well. In fact, the notion of separate “mystery religions” (hence the old scholarly term) is problematic in that one could encounter mysteries as rituals in honour of deities within various contexts, from offi cial civic and imperial cults to unoffi - cial guilds and associations. It is the latt er, more unoffi cial associations that best illuminate Ignatius’s descriptions of Christians as initiates with their own mysteries. Despite secretive dimensions of their rituals, associations of initiates were by no means shy in making their presence known within their hometowns. Ignatius and the followers of Jesus he addressed would have encountered public statements (inscriptions and visual representations on monuments) by such groups or by individual initiates. On a monument from Magnesia on the Maeander River (a locale addressed by Ignatius), an initiate of Dio- nysos publicizes the importance of Dionysiac associations in that community (IMagnMai 215; mid-second cent. ce). Th e initiate’s republication of an “ancient oracle” claims that a divine manifestation of Dionysos, followed by consultation of the oracle of Apollo at Delphi, resulted in the foundation of Dionysiac “societies” (θίασοι) before there were any temples there. Implied is that the very foundation and continued well-being of the Magne- sian community depended on such initiates and their deity. Secretive though the mysteries were, the presence of associations of initiates was, to say the least, public knowledge in Roman Asia Minor. Th ere were many such associations of initiates in the cities addressed by Ignatius, including Magnesia, Philadelphia, Tralles, Smyrna, and Ephesos.5 Th ere were several such associations in Smyrna, for instance, where Ignatius spent some time and from which he wrote his lett ers to congregations at Ephesos (Eph. 21.1), Magnesia (Magn. 15.1), and, probably, Tralles (Trall. 13.1). Particularly well att ested in monuments from Smyrna are the initiates of Dionysos Breseus, a synod that was active at least from fi rst to the third century.6 A decade or so aft er Ignatius, these “initiates of the great Dionysos Breseus, preeminent

4. On the mysteries, see Burkert 1987 and the works cited by him. On comparison and the mysteries see Jonathan Z. Smith 1990; Gasparro 1985; and Harland 2003a, 90–97. 5. Cf. IMagnMai 117, 215 (Dionysos; early–mid second cent. ce); ILydiaKP I 42 (Philadelphia; Dionysos Kathegemon; second cent. ce); ITralles 74, 86 (Isis and Sarapis; second cent. ce), 168. 6. ISmyrna 600–601 (ca. 158 ce/ca. 163 ce), 622 (ca. 130 ce), 639 (late second cent. ce), 652 (fi rst cent. ce), 729 (ca. 247 ce), 731–32 (ca. 80 ce); cf. ISmyrna 728 (Dionysiac-Orphic cult regulation). 50 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians

Figure 4. Relief of Demeter fr om Kozçesme in northwestern Asia Minor, now in the Istanbul Archaeological Museum (fourth century bce) before the city” (polis) publicized their honours for Emperor “Hadrian, Olympios, saviour and founder” (ISmyrna 622). Another synod of initiates at Smyrna devoted to Demeter could make similar claims of preeminence in the city round about the time of Ignatius, and I return to the implied rivalries in chapter 7.7 We know litt le about another group of “fellow-initiates,” Ignatius’s exact term, mentioned on an epitaph for a deceased member (ISmyrna 330). Inscriptions from Ephesos provide glimpses into various such groups of initiates in the fi rst two centuries, some of which would have been relatively well known in that city and likely familiar to the Christians who heard or read Ignatius’s lett er. Particularly noteworthy were the initiates of Demeter and those of Dionysos. See fi gure 4 for an image of the goddess Demeter seated on a throne, from northwestern Asia Minor. Th e worship of Demeter had a long history in Ephesos specifi cally (HerodotusHist. 6.16). An association devoted to this deity is fi rst att ested in inscriptions by the time of Tiberius, when the group honoured several priests and priestesses who were important benefactors of the city and the association (IEph 4337; 19–23 ce). Ιt is from a monument dating to the time of Domitian that we learn more of this group

7. ISmyrna 653–55, 726 (all fi rst–second cent. ce). Local Cultural Life and Christian Identity 51

Figure 5. Statue of Dionysos, now in the Selçuk Archaeological Museum of initiates of Demeter led by priestesses (IEph 213; 88–89 ce).8 Among the regular celebrations of these initiates was a special yearly celebration that included “mysteries and sacrifi ces” performed “with great purity and lawful customs” in honour of both Fruit-Bearing (Karpophoros) Demeter and the “august” or “revered ones,” the emperors as gods. It is worth noting that honours for the emperors, oft en alongside the gods, were a common feature within the lives of associations in Asia Minor.9 Th e Ephesian initiates of Dionysos are well att ested in the epigraphical record as well, with one monument involving honours for the emperor Hadrian (IEph 275; cf. IEph 293, 434, 1020, 1601). An Ephesian statue of Dionysos, the god of the vine, is pictured in fi gure 5. Some time in the mid-second century the Dionysiac initiates joined with the initiates of Demeter to become one association, a combination of mysteries att ested elsewhere as well (IEph 1595).10 Th e Christ-bearing fellow-initiates at Ephesos had their holy-object-bearing counterparts in many of these same groups of initiates of Dionysos, Demeter, and others, which brings us to processions and bearers of sacred things.

8. Cf. IEph 1210, 1270; NewDocs IV 22. 9. See Harland 2000 and 2003. 10. Cf. IG IX.2 573, from Larisa, Macedonia. 52 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Processions and Bearers of Sacred Things

Ignatius’s characterization of the Christian group at Ephesos clearly evokes images from the world of processions when he speaks of them as “fellow-travellers, God-bearers, temple-bearers, Christ-bearers and holy-object-bearers adorned in every respect with the commandments of Jesus Christ” (σύνοδοι πάντες, θεοφόροι καὶ ναοφόροι, χριστοφόροι, ἁγιοφόροι, κατὰ πάντα κεκοσμημένοι ἐν ἐντολαῖς Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ; Eph. 9.1–2).11 Also alluding to processions is his brief but perhaps no less signifi cant summary of the Smyrnaeans’ identity as, among other things, “the holy-object-bearing” congregation that is “most fi tting for its God” (ἐκκλησίᾳ . . . θεοπρεπεστάτῃ καὶ ἁγιοφόρῳ; Smyrn. inscr.) 12 Ignatius was not the fi rst to draw on the analogy of processions to express (metaphorically) devotion to the gods, or to the Judean God specifi cally. Both Epictetus and Plutarch (Greco-Roman philosophers) speak metaphorically of bearing god, or sacred objects, within the soul as an analogy for fi tting worship (Plutarch Isis and Osiris 352B). In seeking to correct someone’s behavior, Epictetus (in Arrian’s presentation) argues:

You are bearing god about with you, you poor wretch, and know it not! Do you suppose I am speaking of some external god, made of silver or gold? It is within yourself that you bear him, and do not perceive that you are defi ling him with impure thoughts and fi lthy actions. Yet in the presence of even an image of god you would not dare to do anything of the things you are now doing. (Epictetus Discourses 2.8.12–14)13

Perhaps culturally closer to Ignatius’s metaphor is Philo’s use of holy-object-bearing imagery. In connection with Gaius’s att empt to violate Judean law by putt ing a statue in Jerusalem, Philo emphasizes the Judeans’ eagerness to maintain their customs and laws: “Holding that the laws are oracles vouchsafed by God and having been trained in this doc- trine from their earliest years, they bear in their souls the images of the commandments” (Leg. Gai. 210).14 Th e parallel with Ignatius’s idea of bearing the commandments of Christ is notable. Elsewhere, Philo speaks of the way in which humanity is made in the image of God, pointing out that it is in respect to “the mind” that humankind is created in the likeness of God: the mind is “in a fashion a god to him who carries and enshrines it as an object of reverence” (Op. Mund. 69). Furthermore, the analogy (including the term “Christ-bearer”) was to persist within Christian circles long aft er Ignatius.15

11. Ignatius’s use of the term “adorned” (κοσμ- root words) here also draws on the terminology of processions in connection with bearing sacred objects or wearing sacred garments and other decorative paraphernalia (esp. “ornament” and “to adorn”; cf. Xenophon of Ephesos An Ephesian Tale 1.2). 12. In connection with Ignatius’s epistolary inscriptions, it is worth mentioning his repeated emphasis on his own name, Th eophoros or “God-bearer.” Cf. Lightfoot 1889–1890, 2:20–21. 13. Trans. Oldfather 1926–28 (LCL). 14. Trans. Colson 1929–62 (LCL), with adaptations. 15. Th e processional metaphor of “Christ-bearing” and “God-bearing” continues in the church fathers (see Clement of Alexandria Exhortation to the Greeks 4; Eusebius HE 8.10, on “Christ-bearing Local Cultural Life and Christian Identity 53

Figure 6. Relief depicting a procession of a maenad and two satyrs, fr om Villa Quintilliana near Rome, now in the British Museum (ca. 100 ce)

Turning to the more important local cultural context of Ignatius’s imagery, the procession (πομπή) was central to festivals in honour of many gods and goddesses in a variety of sett ings in the Greco-Roman world, both offi cial (civic and imperial cults) and unoffi - cial (associations).16 Th e relief in fi gure 6 shows a procession involving a maenad (frenzied female follower of Dionysos) and two satyrs (male att endants of the god). Processional rituals in either sett ing visually communicated the virtues, power, and effi cacy of the deity in question, remapping sacred space and ensuring the continued favorable actions of the god or goddess (i.e., benefactions) in relation to the community. Th ese rituals expressed concretely the identity of the god and of the community. Sacred objects, implements, images, and statues of various kinds were essential components in this visual communication for both observers and participants. Th ose who participated in the procession by proudly carrying the holy objects, even the gods themselves, provided a praiseworthy service to deity and community. Th ere were appropriate titles for the participants or functionaries who bore objects sacred to particular deities. Several of these correspond directly to Ignatius’s list: “god- bearers,” “sacred-object-bearers,” “basket-bearers,” “altar-bearers,” “wand-bearers,”

martyrs”; Lightfoot 1889–1890, 2:55. Th e title “Christ-bearer” is att ested in papyri (see Bell 1924, 100– 102, 108–10, 114–15, on the “Christ-bearing” Paphnutius). 16. Th ere are few studies of processions in the Roman era specifi cally, but see Nilsson 1961, 1:166–214; Burkert 1985, 99–101; Price 1984, 110–12; Rogers 1991, 80–126. 54 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians “ symbol-bearers,” “sign-bearers,” “sacred-stone-bearers,” and “phallus-bearers,” to name a few att ested in inscriptions.17 One second-century literary description of such rituals that refl ects Ignatius’s region of origin, Syria, will serve to illustrate the importance of processions and the carrying of holy objects. In Th e Syrian Goddess, Lucian of Samosata describes the rituals and festivals associated with the sanctuary of Atargatis (“Hera” in Lucian’s terms), the mother goddess at Syrian Hierapolis (Bambyke).18 Here processions and “bearers” of holy things played an important role in honorary activities for Atargatis and two other male deities, likely El and Baal (Zeus and Apollo). Twice yearly, worshippers participated in carrying water from the sea up to the sanctuary in commemoration of a legendary fl ood which, it is said, ended as a result of a great chasm—a sizable drain—sent by the gods at the site of the sanctuary (Syr. D. 12–13). It is on this occasion that a special golden “image” (ξόανον) or “sign” (σημήιον [sic]) affi xed with symbols associated with Atargatis and the other Syrian gods made its journey, carried by temple functionaries, down to the sea “to fetch the water” (Syr. D. 33). Archeological materials (coins from Syrian Hierapolis and Carrhae and a relief from Dura) help to visualize the sign or standard in question, which would consist of a “shaft , the divine symbol or the fi gure of the deity at the top, symbols or images of deities att ached to the shaft ” (resembling Roman military standards), as M. Rostovtzeff explains.19 Groups of “sign-bearers” are att ested in connection with associations and mysteries in Asia Minor and elsewhere, as I discuss below. Lucian points out that the deities of the sanctuary could be quite vocal about when and where the holy things were to be carried. When an oracular response was forthcoming from Baal (Apollo) at Syrian Hierapolis, once again bearers of holy things came to play a role at the god’s initiative: “Whenever he wishes to deliver an oracle, he fi rst moves on his throne, and the priests immediately lift him up. If they do not lift him, he begins to sweat and moves still more. When they put him on their shoulders and carry him, he leads them in every direction as he spins around and leaps from one place to another” (Syr. D. 36).20 If the god moves his carriers forward, the answer to the oracle is affi rmative, if backward, negative. During festivals called “descents to the lake” (apparently distinguished from the former fl ood-related festival), both Atargatis and El made the journey in procession, being carried down to the lake, but “Hera [Atargatis] goes fi rst, for the sake of the fi sh, for fear Zeus [El] sees them fi rst. For if this happens, they say that all the fi sh perish. He does come to have a look, but she stands in front of him, holds him off , and with many entreaties sends him away” (Syr. D. 47). Ignatius’s characterization of Jesus-followers at Ephesos as fellow-processionists bearing sacred objects alludes to aspects of cultural life that would be familiar not only in Syria but also in the cities of western Asia Minor. Processions involving statues and other sacred

17. θεοφόροι, ἱεραφόροι, ἁγιαφόροι, λικναφόροι, καλαθηφόροι, βωμοφόροι, θυρσοφόροι, ναρθη- κοφόροι, συμβόλαφόροι, σεμειαφόροι, λιθοφόροι, φαλλ οφόροι. See Pleket 1970, 55–88, especially, p. 66, n. 15. 18. On the reliability of this account, see Jones 1986, 41–42. I consult the Greek text of Harmon 1913–67 (LCL). 19. Rostovtzeff 1942, 100 and plates V-VI. Cf. Pleket 1970, 67–72. Rostovzeff (1942) and H. Sey- rig (1960, 233–52) show that “Semea” was not a Syrian deity as originally suggested. 20. Trans. Att ridge and Oden 1976. Greek text cited from Harmon 1913–67 (LCL). Local Cultural Life and Christian Identity 55

Figure 7. Statue of Artemis of Ephesos, now in the Selçuk Archaeological Museum objects were an important component in the civic festivals that honoured Ephesos’s offi - cial patron deity, Artemis Ephesia, who is pictured in fi gure 7.21 Th ere were several boards of functionaries connected with the Artemis sanctuary that were responsible for carrying sacred objects of various kinds in processions, including “ornament-bearers” (κοσμοφόροι) and “gold-bearers” (χρυσοφόροι).22 In his second-century novel An Ephesian Tale, Xeno- phon of Ephesos begins his story with a description of just such a procession in honour of Artemis, speaking of the “great crowd of Ephesians and visitors alike” who witnessed the procession fi le past led by well-adorned young girls and youths (ephebes), “fi rst the sacred objects, the torches, the baskets, and the incense” (1.2–3).23 Th e procession culminated in a sacrifi cial ceremony in the sanctuary of the goddess. Particularly noteworthy in connection with Ignatius’s epistle to the Ephesians, however, is that a wealthy Ephesian benefactor, C. Vibius Salutaris, upon his death in 104 ce,

21. Cf. Strabo, Geography 14.1.20. 22. See Picard 1922, 240–46. Cf. IEph 14, line 23. 23. Trans. Anderson 1989, 125–69. Cf. Th e Martyrdom of Saint Timothy (Keil 1935, 82–92). 56 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians pumped a substantial amount of new funds into multiple processions in honour of Artemis, Ephesian mythological and historical fi gures,and (not surprisingly) Salutaris himself (IEph 27).24 Few inhabitants of Ephesos at the time would have been ignorant of this important foundation, as Salutaris no doubt intended. It established frequent processions, perhaps on average about once every two weeks.25 Guy MacLean Rogers notes that the throng of 260 participants, “bearing conspicious silver and gold statues through the narrow streets of Ephesos, must have impeded, if not altogether halted, traffi c within the city at procession time.”26 Th e most prominent participants were the youths (ephebes) who carried gold and silver images or statues of Artemis, of the Ionian and Hellenistic founders, and of the Roman imperial family in the processions through the city. Statues of the emperors, alongside other gods, were an important component in a similar foundation (by C. Julius Demosthenes) for processions at Oenoanda (in Lycia), a function carried out by the “Sebastoi-bearers,” those who carried images of the emperors as gods.27 Also among the benefi ciaries and participants of the Ephesian foundation were the hymn-singers of Artemis as well as the elders’ organization and boards connected with the Artemis sanctuary, including the “gold-bearers of Artemis.”28 Th e gold-bearers of Artemis formed a “sanhedrin” which consisted of members drawn from both the priests of the temple and the athletic guild of “sacred victors.”29 Such guilds of “sacred victors from the world” toured Asia Minor, competing in international contests and leaving behind monumental evidence of their victories.30 Although the appellation “gold-bearer” is att ested elsewhere as merely a civic honorary title,31 it is clear that, in the case of this Ephesian group, literally carrying sacred golden objects in processions was among the key services this group provided. In the time of Hadrian, for instance, they are described as “the priests and sacred victors who carry the golden ornament of the great goddess Artemis” (IEph 276).32 Th ese gold-bearers were, quite literally, god-bearers. Another informative inscription from the village of Almoura, in the territory of Ephe- sos (just inland in the Cayster valley), involves the dedication of sacred objects to be carried

24. On this inscription, see Rogers 1991. 25. See Rogers (1991, 83) for the procession schedule. 26. Rogers 1991, 86. 27. Wörrle 1988, 10–11, 216–19 = SEG 38 (1988), no. 1462, C (time of Hadrian). Cf. Robert 1969, 2:1275–78. Allen Brent’s recent study of “Ignatius of Antioch and the Imperial Cult” (Brent 1998, 30–58) rightly identifi es the importance of processions in Ignatius’s thought world, but the study is methodologically fl awed in its tendency to suggest allusions to imperial cults throughout Ignatius’s lett ers where no explicit identifi cation is possible. See Harland 2003a, 239–51. 28. Th ere was an association at Ephesos called the “gold-bearing icon-bearers” (IEph 546). Th e priests in Magnesia’s civic cult may also have been known as “gold-bearing priests of Artemis Leuko- phryene,” as O. Kern suggests (see IMagnMai 119). 29. Cf. Rogers 1991, 56–57; IEph 27.451–526, 28, 276, 943, 951, 991 (second cent. ce) 3263, 4330 (231–234 ce). 30. Cf. IAphrodSpect 66–68, 89–90 (= IEph 11), 93; IDidyma 107, 201, 272; TAM V 977 (Th yatira). On athletic associations see Pleket 1973, 197–227. 31. Cf. ITralles 73, 90, 134, 145. 32. See Robert 1975, 324. Local Cultural Life and Christian Identity 57 in processions for the mysteries of the goddess Demeter and the god Men respectively.33 In it, P. Aelius Menekrates dedicates income from the shops he owns to purchase a “basket set in silver” for use during the procession as part of Demeter’s mysteries. Other inscriptions from Ephesos mention a female functionary called a “basket-bearer” (καλαθηφόρος) whose responsibility it would be to lead in carrying the basket containing the sacred objects in processions like this one at Almoura (see IEph 1060, 1070, 1071).34 In Almoura men were also participants in the procession alongside the priestesses and other women. Th e same benefactor, Menekrates, also donated a silver “sign” or “standard” (σημήα [sic])—a term we have already encountered in Lucian—to be carried in processions pre- ceding the mysteries and sacred banquet for the god Men, who “presided over the village” as patron. Th ere were corresponding functionaries, called “symbol-bearers,” in a cult devoted to Men and Artemis Anaetis in a village near Philadelphia (in Lydia).35 Th ere was also an association called the “sign-bearers of Apollo Archegetes” at Phrygian Hierapolis which, like many other local associations, was responsible for the upkeep of benefactors’ graves. Τheir name suggests that they carried a standard with symbols of Hierapolis’s patron deity in their own rituals and, perhaps, also in a yearly civic celebration (IHierapJ 153; second cent. ce).36 Th ere was also a sign-bearer alongside narthex-bearers, a lamp-bearer and basket-bearers in an association of Dionysiac initiates at Cillae in Th racia (IGBulg 1517; third cent. ce). Other inscriptions from Asia Minor att est to bearers of sacred things, some of them in connection with unoffi cial associations and groups that celebrated mysteries. Th ese provide an important interpretive framework for Ignatius’s description of the unoffi cial Chris- tian congregation of Christ-bearing fellow-initiates. I turn fi rst to associations devoted to Isis, then to those linked with Dionysos and the Great Mother. Plutarch’s reference (Moralia 352B) to the “sacred-object-bearers” (ἱεραφόροι) among initiates in the mysteries of Isis—a favourite literary citation among scholars who deal with Ignatius’s analogy37—has less-noted counterparts in inscriptions from various locales. Among these are the two “sacred-object-bearers” who set up statues at Pergamon in honour of Sarapis, Isis, Anubis, and other deities in the fi rst century IPergamon( 336 = SIRIS 313).38 It is in a similar milieu of Isis worship at Athens that we encounter the synonymous (but less common) “holy-object-bearer” (ἁγιαφόρος), the precise term that Ignatius uses of the Christians (IG III 162 = SIRIS 16; ca. 120 ce). Apuleius of Madaura’s story of the mysteries of Isis in Cenchreae in Greece describes in detail a sacred procession involving women, musicians, boys, initiates, and priests bearing sacred objects of various kinds (among them a lamp, sacrifi cial pot, golden palm tree, golden vessel in the shape of a woman’s breast, winnowing basket, and wine jar) (Met., book 11).

33. Pleket 1970, 61–74, no. 4 = Lane 1971–76, 1:49–50, no. 75 (mid-second century). 34. Pleket 1970, 63. Cf. Oster 1990, 1671–73. 35. Herrmann 1996, 315–41, no. 27. For discussion see Lane 1971–76, 3:36–37. Cf. TAM IV 76 (Nikomedia). 36. See Pleket 1970, 64–72 37. E.g., Schoedel 1985, 67. 38. Cf. SIRIS 52 (Th ebes), 62 (Chaeronea, third cent. ce), 109 (Th essalonica, second cent. ce), 254 (Samos). Th ere is also an “altar-bearer” att ested in connection with Isis at Pergamon (SIRIS 315) and a “fi re-bearer” at Epidaurus SIRIS( 38). Cf. Dunand 1973, 3:63–65. 58 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians He also mentions the order of pastophoroi (παστοφόροι), which are att ested in Greek and Latin inscriptions as well.39 Th ese were, most likely, “shrine-bearers” who carried miniature temples in processions,40 which provides a close analogy for Ignatius’s “temple-bearers.” Th e bearing of miniature, sacred shrines or temples was not limited to the worship of Isis, as Herodotus’s and Didorus Siculus’s description of certain Egyptian cults suggests.41 It seems reasonable to imagine the presence of similar “bearers” of sacred objects among groups of devotees of Isis and Sarapis in Roman Asia, such as the initiates who are att ested at Tralles in the early second century (ITralles 86 = SIRIS 295; time of Hadrian) and, perhaps, the guild of workers in the fi shery toll-offi ce at Ephesos which possessed an altar and statue of Isis, probably their patron deity (IEph 1503; time of Antoninus Pius). Earlier “cistophoric” coins (second–fi rst cent. bce) from Tralles, Ephesos, and other locales in Asia Minor depict the basket that was carried in such mystic processions in honour of Isis. 42 Evidence for such bearers in processions and mysteries is forthcoming from Diony- siac groups, which were widespread in Asia Minor.43 Several inscriptions from Ephesos mention the title and role of “thrysus-bearer,” or “wand-bearer” (θυρσοφόρος), in celebrations for Dionysos (IEph 1268, 1601–2). Th e Asian-infl uenced association of initiates at Torre Nova, Italy (ca. 160 ce), under the direction of their priestess (Pompeia Agrippini- lla), included various such functionaries among its members including “winnowing-basket-bearers,” “basket-bearers,” “fi re-bearers,” “phallus-bearer,” and “god-bearers” IGUR( I 160).44 Th ese were titles and functions of fundamental importance to the mythology and mysteries of the god in question. As M. P. Nilsson notes, the “liknon fi lled with fruit among which a phallus rises, oft en covered with a cloth, is the characteristic symbol of the Bacchic mysteries of the Roman age.”45 Elsewhere in Asia Minor, near Th yatira, we hear of an association that called itself the “narthex-bearing company.” Th e narthex plant was among the favourite choices for wands in Dionysiac mysteries (TAM V 817, 822). Sacred associations devoted to the Great Mother of Anatolia, Cybele, existed throughout Lydia, Phrygia, and the Roman world generally, including regions such as Moesia and Th racia. In Romanized versions of such groups, “reed-bearers” and “tree-bearers” played a key role, the latt er carrying the decorated pine trees in processions that commemorated the death of Att is during the March festival.46 Visual depictions on monuments from northwestern Asia Minor help to bring such processions by associations to life. A monument from Kyzikos pictures a procession in

39. SIRIS 433 (Rome, second or third cent. ce), 709 (Tomi, Moesia Inferior, third cent. ce). 40. Cf. Vidman 1970, 211–12. 41. Cf. Diodorus Siculus 1.97; Herodotus 2.63. If V. Chapot’s claim that there was a board of “temple-bearers” at Ephesos is correct, then there is a clear local parallel for Ignatius’s use of the term; but Chapot does not cite any specifi c inscriptions (Chapot 1967 [1904], 516–17; cf. Picard 1922, 242). 42. See Dunand 1973, 78–79; Hölbl 1978, esp. plate XII, no. 1b; Magie 1953, 163–87. 43. See Nilsson 1957. 44. Cf. Vogliano 1933, 215–31; Nilsson 1957, 21–57; IGBulg 401, 1517 (Asian-infl uenced initiates in Th racia). 45. Nilsson 1957, 21. 46. On tree-bearers in the Danubian provinces, see Tacheva-Hitova 1983, 73–74 (no. 4 from Novae), 93–95 (no. 48 from Tomi), 116–18 (no. 101 from Serdica), 148–50. Local Cultural Life and Christian Identity 59 honour of the Great Mother (CCCA I 289; fi rst cent. bce). eTh relief depicts Cybele in a quite typical manner, seated on a throne with lions on either side. Below her is shown a procession of eight devotees approaching an altar with upraised hands in adoration of the goddess. Th e procession would culminate in a sacrifi cial scene similar to that depicted in another relief from Triglia (near Apamea on the Propontis) set up by the members of the “synagogue of Zeus” in honour of Stratonike, the priestess of Mother Cybele and Apollo (IApamBith 35, with photo = CCCA I 252; 119 bce or, more likely, 85 ce). Th e relief pictures Stratonike, along with a boy guiding the sacrifi cial victim (a sheep) and a girl playing the Phrygian double fl ute. eyTh proceed towards the altar with upraised hands in adoration of Cybele and Apollo. Beneath this processional–sacrifi cial scene are pictured the members of the association reclining for a banquet as they eat souvlaki and listen to fl ute players.47 Evidently, processions, along with related functionaries and rituals, were an integral part of activities in many associations, which brings us back to the unoffi cial congregations addressed by Ignatius.

Conclusion

Th e case of Ignatius illustrates how certain educated, early Christian authors could draw on familiar concepts and categories from local cultural life, including association life, in order to defi ne and express the identities of congregations. In particular, Ignatius drew on concepts and imagery from the life of local associations devoted to mysteries, characterizing the congregations as groups of fellow-initiates with their own, special mysteries. Along- side this characterization are other analogies drawn from practices in the mysteries and from processions that oft en involved groups and organizations of various types, including associations. I would suggest that the eff ect of such internal self-defi nitions would be, in part, to provide a sense of place for these Christians within local cultural life despite the other ways in which such minority groups stood apart from others. Ignatius was a relatively educated, literate author, but it seems that his ways of expressing Christian identities nonetheless came to infl uence others within these congregations. In the next two chapters, I turn to the internal language of belonging that was used among average members within associations, beginning with fi ctive brother language.

47. See the photo of GIBM IV.2 1007 in chapter 1, as well as the discussion of such depictions of association meetings in Harland 2003a, 56–59; Mitropoulou 1990, 472–74.

Part 2

Familial Dimensions of Group Identity

“Brothers” in Associations and Congregations

Introduction

Social identity theorists emphasize the role of both internal defi nitions and external categorizations in dynamics of group identity construction and reformulation. Th ere is a sense in which internal defi nitions are primary in the construction of identities. In these two chapters I further explore instances of these internal group processes in the ancient context by looking at the use of fi ctive family language within associations and cultural minority groups, including associations of Christians and of Judeans (Jews). Identity formation and negotiation take place primarily through social interaction, in this case interaction among members in a particular group. Many social identity theorists stress the importance of language not only in the communication of identities but also in the construction and negotiation of identities, both in terms of internal self-defi nition and external categorizations.1 Identities are created or re-created through verbal or nonver- bal communication. In surveying the social-scientifi c literature on how identity is “done,” Judith A. Howard stresses how “people actively produce identity through their talk.”2 Dis- courses of belonging that took place among members within associations, including cultural minority groups, are therefore an excellent place to start in understanding dynamics of group identity. I argue that Judean and Christian practices of employing family language refl ect common modes of formulating and communicating identity or belonging within certain groups in the ancient Mediterranean. Th ese usages suggest ways in which these cultural minority groups mirrored the majority culture in signifi cant ways relating to processes of self-defi nition and interactionsamong individual members of a group. Early Christian congregations, like other associations, could express their identities in a variety of ways, and this included the use of family language to express belonging within the group in certain cases. Th e language of familial relation, particularly the term “brothers” (ἀδελφοί), is prominent in Paul’s lett ers and subsequently continues with some

1. See Howard 2000, 371–73. 2. Howard 2000, 372.

63 64 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians importance in segments of early Christianity.3 For example, Paul’s fi rst lett er to the Chris- tians at Th essalonica, which seeks to comfort Christians faced with “affl ictions,” is densely packed with references to “the brothers.”4 David G. Horrell notes that “brothers” / “sisters” is used over 112 times in Paul’s authentic lett ers, and Horrell argues that the “prominence of this kinship description would seem to imply that Paul both assumes and promotes the relationship between himself and his addressees, and among the addressees themselves, as one between equal siblings, who share a sense of aff ection, mutual responsibility, and solidarity.”5 Th e author of 1 Peter calls on followers of Jesus in Asia Minor to “love the brotherhood” (ἀδελφότης; 1 Pet 2:17; cf. 5:9). Ignatius of Antioch (who knows and uses Paul’s lett ers) refl ects continued use of brother language within Christian congregations in Roman Asia and in Syria, yet he also applies the term “brothers” to outsiders as well.6 Many scholars pursue the meaning of this fi gurative sibling languagewithin Chris- tianity, especially its Pauline forms, including R. Banks, Wayne A. Meeks, K. Schäfer, K. O. Sandnes, J. H. Hellerman, David G. Horrell, and Trevor J. Burke, in recent years.7 With the exception of useful studies by Peter Arzt-Grabner and Reidar Aasgaard, very few go beyond this internal Christian usage to focus on other Greco-Roman uses of the sibling metaphor. In particular, we lack studies that suffi ciently explore epigraphic and papyrological evidence for fi ctive kinship within small-group sett ings or associations in the Greek- speaking, eastern Mediterranean.8 One reason for this neglect is that, although many scholars rightly point to the importance of Paul’s use of fi ctive kinship for understanding group identity, this is sometimes explained by scholars in terms of sectarianism in a sociological sense. In particular, Bryan R. Wilson’s sociological sect typology has been extremely infl uential in social-historical studies of early Christianity.9 So much so that the categorization of early Christian groups as “sects” has become standard practice, as I noted in chapter 1. Th is chapter further highlights problems in how these groups have been categorized as “sects” and builds on my substantial critique of those approaches in my earlier work.10 To provide an infl uential example of how sibling language is approached, Meeks is among those who correctly emphasize the community-reinforcing impact of the term “brothers” as used in Pauline circles. Yet Meeks goes further to argue that Paul’s use of “brothers” is indicative of how “members are taught to conceive of only two classes of humanity: the sect and the outsiders.”11 Th e use of aff ective language within Pauline circles

3. E.g., 1 Th ess 1:4; 2:1; 3:2; 4:1; 5:1, 4, 12; Matt 5:22–23; 12:49; Acts 2:29; 3:17; 13:15; 1 Pet 2:17; 5:9; Jas 1:2; 2:1; 3:1; 1 John 3:13–16. 4. See 1 Th ess 1:4; 2:1; 3:2; 4:1; 5:1, 4, 12. 5. Horrell 2001, 299. 6. Applied to insiders: Poly. 5.1; Smyrn. 12.1; 13.1; Eph. 16.1; Rom. 6.2. Applied to outsiders: Eph. 10.3. “Brothers” occurs in his lett ers to Tralles and to Magnesia. 7. Banks 1994 [1980]; Meeks 1983, 85–89; Schäfer 1989; Sandnes 1994; Horrell 2001; Burke 2003. For earlier studies, see especially Schelkle 1954, 631–35. 8. Arzt-Grabner 2002, 185–204; Aasgaard 2004, esp. chs. 4–7. 9. See, for instance, Wilson 1970, 1973, 1982. 10. See Harland 2003a, 177–212. 11. Meeks 1983, 86 (also see pp. 85–88); cf. Lane Fox 1986, 324–25; Sandnes 1994; Elliott 1990, 165–266. “Brothers” in Associations and Congregations 65 was an important component in “the break with the past and integration into the new community.”12 Most Christian groups strongly set themselves apart from society and the common use of family language is one further indicator of their status as “sects,” from this perspective. An important assumption behind this argument for a sectarian understanding of fi c- tive family language is that such usage is, in some sense, unique (or at least peculiar) to early Christians and, to a lesser extent, their close cultural relatives, Judeans.13 In this view, such modes of address were not signifi cant within small-group sett ings, organizations, or cults in the Greco-Roman world. It is common among some scholars, such as Meeks and Hellerman, both to assert the rarity of fi ctive family language within associations or “clubs” and to discount evidence of such usage that does exist in these sett ings as lacking any real implications for a sense of belonging or communal identity.14 Although Meeks admits that fi ctive sibling terminology was “not unknown in pagan clubs and cult associations,” for instance, he does not further explore the evidence and he dismisses some cases he is aware of as insignifi cant and primarily indicative of “Roman infl uence.”15 Meeks, like Robin Lane Fox, Walter Burkert, and others, stresses the diff erences between associations, on the one hand, and both Christian congregations and Judean gatherings, on the other, and the familial language issue is one component in this contrast.16 Implied or stated is the idea that, in contrast to Christian groups, most associations (including groups of initiates in the mysteries) lacked a developed sense of communal identity (they were mere “clubs”). In some ways, early Christian groups are taken as ideal or true communities with aff ective bonds among members. Th ere is no such consensus concerning fi ctive kinship terms among scholars of Greco- Roman religions, epigraphy, and associations specifi cally. Beginning with Erich Ziebarth in the late nineteenth century, several scholars briefl y note occurrences of sibling language within associations. Yet these scholars are generally divided on whether the practice was relatively common or infrequent in the Greek East.17 Several, such as Franz Bömer, Franz Poland, and others who depend on them, argue that the practice of using familial terms for fellow-members (“brothers”) was relatively unknown in Greek associations.18 Further- more, Bömer suggests that the cases where it is att ested in Greek inscriptions are results of

12. Meeks 1983, 88. 13. Both Franz Bömer and Meeks emphasize the distinctiveness of Christian usage while also suggesting Judean infl uence (Bömer 1981 [1958–63], 179; Meeks 1983, 87). Cf. Lieu 2004, 166–67. 14. Cf. Meeks 1983, 225 n. 73; Burkert 1987, 45; Lane Fox 1986, 324–35; Schmeller 1995, 16–17; McCready 1996, 59–73; Hellerman 2001, 21–25. 15. Meeks 1983, 87. Cf. Bömer (1981 [1958–63], 172), who considers fi ctive brother-language “un-Greek.” 16. Lane Fox 1986, 85, 324–25; Burkert 1987, 30–53. 17. Ziebarth 1896, 100–101; Waltzing 1895–1900, 1.329–30 n. 3 (on the West primarily); Poland 1909, 54–56; Nock 1924, 105; San Nicolo 1972, 1.33–34 n. 4; Schelkle 1954, 631–634; Bömer 1981 [1958– 63], 172–78; Fraser 1977, 74, 78, 164–65 nn. 433–37; Burkert 1987, 45, 149 n. 77; Kloppenborg 1996b, 259; van Nijf 1997, 46–49; Ustinova 1999, 185–88; Harland 2003a, 31–33; Ascough 2003, 76–77. 18. Poland suggests that the only clear case of fictive “brothers” in associations involves the “adopted brothers” at Tanais (Poland 1909, 54–55). Other potential cases are dismissed as Christian or as involving real siblings. 66 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Roman or western infl uence, and therefore lacking signifi cance forunderstanding association life in the Greek East.19 On the other hand, studies by A. D. Nock, Mariano San Nicolo, K. H. Schelkle, P. M. Fraser, and G. H. R. Horsley suggest that, despite the partial nature of our evidence, familial terminology may have been more common within cults and associations in the Greek East (and elsewhere) than oft en assumed.20 Apparently no one has assembled and fully discussed the range of epigraphic evidence, and considerable evidence has come to light recently. Presenting and discussing the Greek inscriptional and papyrological evidence for fi ctive familial address here may help to clarify this issue in a more satisfactory manner. Here I use some intriguing fi rst-century archeological evidence from Paul’s home- province, Cilicia, as an entry-way into the language of belonging within unoffi cial associations and guilds, particularly fi ctive kinshiplanguage and the sibling solidarity metaphor. Th e aim is to draw att ention to familial expressions of identity within associations and cults of various kinds with special att ention to the Greek-speaking, eastern part of the empire. I argue that there is no reason to minimize the signifi canceof familial expressions of belonging within non-Christian, Greco-Roman contexts in the Greek East while doing the contrary in the case of Christianity. In both cases we are witnessing processes whereby connections among members of a group could be formed, expressed, and solidifi ed, creating or maintaining a sense of communal identity. Th is way of putt ing it may show that I am not concerned with oversimplifi ed issues of “borrowing” and genealogical cultural connections, nor with the unanswerable question of whether Paul derived his usage solely from Judean (e.g., synagogues) or from Hellenistic (e.g., associations) contexts, contexts which were less compartmentalized than oft en assumed, as we are learning. Instead, I am concerned with exploring shared ways of expressing identity and belonging in small group sett ings. Th e nature of archeology and epigraphy limits the degree to which we should expect to be able to witness or evaluate such relational expressions, which are more suited to personal address (e.g., personal lett ers or face-to-face encounters as sometimes described in narrative or historical sources). Nonetheless, there are clear indications that some Greeks and Romans, like some Judeans and some followers of Jesus in the fi rst centuries, did express a sense of belonging in an association, guild, or organization by identifying their fellows as “brothers” (or, less oft en att ested, “sisters”). Th e Greek evidence spans the eastern part of the empire, including Asia Minor, Greece, Macedonia, the Danube, the Bosporan kingdom, and Egypt. Furthermore, the evidence dates to the centuries both before and aft er Paul, further suggesting that we should not so lightly dismiss its continuing signifi cance within certain social sett ings.

19. Bömer 1981 [1958–63], 172–179; cf. Poland 1909, 54–55 (cf. pp. 371–73). Bömer and Poland infl uence other scholars: e.g., van Nijf 1997, 46 n.73; Meeks 1983, 225, n. 73 (cf. Kloppenborg 1996b, 259; Ascough 2003, 76 n. 18). 20. Nock goes so far as to argue that the “cult-association is primarily a family” (Nock 1924, 105; cf. Barton and Horsley 1981, 26; Ascough 2003, 76–77). See San Nicolo 1972, 1.33–34 n. 4. In NewDocs V 4 (on p. 73), Horsley critiques N. Turner’s dismissal of the use of “brother” within associations, citing several instances of its use. “Brothers” in Associations and Congregations 67 Cautions on the Nature of Sources

Meeks and others who follow him suggest that brother language was rare in Greco-Roman associations or cults and relatively common within Christian groups. Yet it seems that these scholars have not taken into account a key diff erence in the genre of our sources for early Christian groups as opposed to associations. We have personal lett ers pertaining to early Christian groups (refl ecting personal interactions), but rarely have any literary or epistolary evidence for the internal life of other associations. Instead, we have monuments, including honorary inscriptions and epitaphs on graves. Th is has important implications regarding the assessment of things such as fi ctive family language and its relative frequency or importance in Christian, Judean, or other Greco- Roman sett ings. For in inscriptions (with their formal restrictions) there would be few occasions incidentally to make reference to the day-to-day language of belonging that was used in real-life sett ings (beyond the title of the group, for instance). Th e Judean epigraphic evidence is instructive on this point, for although we know that fi ctive sibling language was used by some Judeans in the Hellenistic and Roman periods (as refl ected in the literature), so far we lack inscriptions that att est to the use of “brothers” among members of diaspora synagogues.21 More importantly, although we fi nd fi ctive uses of “brothers” / “sisters” in the mouths of educated Christian authors early on, such as Paul, most epigraphic att esta- tions of the use of “brothers” considerably postdate our earliest inscriptional evidence for Christianity (which begins about 180 ce). Although “brother” is commonly used in the literature, the earliest Christian epitaphs that have been found do not use fi ctive sibling language at all, as far as I can see.22 So the probability remains that even if particular associations did use such fi ctive sibling language on a regular basis in real-life sett ings to indicate a sense of belonging, this

21. E.g., 1 Macc 12:10, 17; 2 Macc 1:1; 4 Macc 13:23, 26; 14:1; Josephus War 2.122, and, of course, the Dead Sea Scrolls (cf. Aasgaard 2004, 125–26; Horrell 2001, 296). See the indices of CIJ and IJO I-III, for instance. Meeks readily dismisses inscriptional evidence for brother language that does exist because of its supposed infrequency, asserting that “[m]ost likely . . . the early Christians took their usage from the Jews” (Meeks 1983, 87). Yet Meeks does not cite any epigraphic cases of the Judean usage (for the fi rst two centuries), and what he does not mention is that we lack such evidence at this point (notwithstanding the few references to “brotherly/sisterly love” [φιλάδελφοι], only some of which are likely fi gurative). Th ere is an inconsistency in Meeks’s approach. 22. So far as I am aware, there are no clear cases of fi ctive sibling language in Christian inscriptions and epitaphs from the Greek East and Asia Minor before Constantine, including the “Christian for Christians” inscriptions of Phrygia, for instance (Gibson 1978; cf. Snyder 2003 [1985], 210–65). Th ere are a number of instances of “brother(s)/sister(s)” or “beloved brother(s)” as forms of address in papyri that are quite securely Christian, particularly those dating to the third, fourth, and fi fth centuries, e.g., NewDocs IV 124 and Snyder 2003 [1985], 270–72 (F), 273–77 (I), 278 (L), 282–84 (Z), 284–85 (CC). One of the diffi culties here is that the scholarly assumption that “pagans” did not tend to use such terms of familial address has been a criterion for identifying lett ers as Christian based on the presence of brother language. See the discussion of PRyl IV 604 further below, for instance, which is now clearly established as “pagan,” but still wrongly categorized as Christian by Snyder 2003 [1985], 281–82 (Y) and others. 68 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians would rarely be expressed on a monument. Relative rarity of expression in inscriptions should not be confused with rarity of practice. What this does mean is that we should pay special att ention to the available Greco-Roman materials, rather than ignoring or dismissing them based on issues of presumed infrequency or insignifi cance.

Asia Minor, Greece, the Danube, and the Bosporan Region

References to “brother(s)” or “sister(s)” (ἀδελφός, -οί / ἀδελφή, -αί) in Greek inscriptions are, of course, not uncommon (especially in epitaphs), but we have the diffi culty of assessing when such references are to fi ctive rather than “real” siblings. ankfully,Th there are occasions when we can be confi dent in recognizing the fi gurative use of sibling language, including a clear case from fi rst-century Cilicia, likely Paul’s home province. A series of tombs discovered carved into the mountain rock in the vicinity of Lamos in central Rough Cilicia (southwest of Tarsus) pertains to collective burial sites of associations dating to the period before Vespasian.23 Th e majority of these common memorials make no mention of a title for the group or of terminology that members would use in referring to one another. In most of these shared tombs there is simply a list of members’ names with no further identifi cation IKilikiaBM( II 197, 198, 200, 202), or a statement of the leader’s name followed by the list of “those with him” (οἱ μετ’ αὐτοῦ; IKilikiaBM I 34; IKilikiaBM II 201). Certainly there are clear signs of belonging in all of these cases in the sense that these individuals consciously “joined together,” as one inscription puts it, and they were concerned to ensure that only their members and no one else was to be buried there (IKilikiaBM I 34). So although there are several associations at this locale, only one of them incidentally provides a glimpse into the terminology of belonging which could be used among members, in this case fi ctive brother language. eTh inscription in question (IKilikiaBM II 201) from Lamos reads as follows:

column a = lines 1–20 Rhodon son of Kydimasas, Selgian, and those with him: Pyramos son of Pyramos, Sel- gian, Mindyberas son of Arestes, Selgian, Aetomeros Manis, Lylous son of Menos, Selgian, Ketomaneis son of Kibrios, Zezis son of Oubramis, Kendeis son of Zenonis, Aigylis son of Oubramis, Dinneon son of Pigemis, Selgian. Th is is our common memorial and it is not lawful for anyone to bury another body here. But if anyone buries another here let him pay a pair of oxen and three mina (= 100 drachmai) to Zeus, three mina and a pair of oxen to Apollo, and three mina to the people (δῆμος). But if anyone should go up and wish to sell his common ownership (κοινωνεία), it is not lawful . . .

23. Bean and Mitford 1962, 209–11, nos. 33–35; IKilikiaBM I 34; IKilikiaBM II 197, 198, 202, 205; cf. IKilikiaBM II 189–202 for Lamos generally. Th e tombs are dated to the time of Vespasian (69–70 ce) or earlier based on the fact that they use “drachmai” rather than “denaria,” which suggests that they date to the period before Vespasian joined Rough Cilicia with the Cilician plain (see notes to IKilikiaBM II 196). “Brothers” in Associations and Congregations 69

column b = lines 21–35 For it is not lawful to sell from abroad (or, possibly: sell outside the group), but let him take from the common treasury 30 staters and let him depart. But if some brother wants to sell, let the other brothers (ἀδελφοὶ) purchase it. But if the brothers so wish, then let them receive the coins mentioned above and let them depart from the association (κονοῦ [sic]). But whenever someone dies, and has no one to carry out the funeral . . . (see the Greek text of column b = lines 21–35 in the note).24

Th e membership in the association consists of ten men under the leadership of Rhodon from Selge, and four other members are likewise immigrants from that city (polis) in Pamphylia. We know from several other tombs in the vicinity (near the modern sites of Adanda and Direvli) that Selgian immigrants were particularly prominent in the profession of masonry.25 Th e Rhodon in question may be identifi ed with the artisan who carved another tomb in the area (IKilikiaBM II 199) and who was responsible for some sculptural work at nearby Selinos (IKilikiaBM II 156). It may well be that the members of this association shared this profession, though this is not expressly the case. It may also be that most or all of the members (beyond the Selgians) were immigrants to the area, forming an association along the lines of the sort of immigrant associations I discuss in chapter 5. What interests us most here is the incidental reference to terminology of belonging used among members of the group. In outlining rules concerning members’ share in the tomb and the question of selling this share, the group had decided to emphasize the need to ensure that portions within the tomb remained among members of the group. Th ey consistently refer to such fellow-members as “brothers.”26 In the event that one of the “brothers” wished to “go up,” perhaps to his hometown (Selge may be in mind), then he must not sell from abroad, or outside of the current membership. Instead, the departing member should receive his payment back or the other “brothers” may purchase the portion. Th e fi nal stipulation (before the gap) is unclear but seems to suggest that if a number of the members decide to leave (returning to their hometowns, perhaps), then they too may receive their payments back. Th ere are other cases from Asia Minor involving fellow-members of an association or cultic organization who likewise employ brother terminology. A number of inscriptions pertaining to functionaries in cults at several locales, many of which also refer to “victory” (νίκη), appear to use the term “brother” as a designation for a priest. At Halicarnassos (on the western coast of Asia Minor, opposite the island of Cos) there are two, perhaps three, monuments on which priests (ἱερεῖς) in a temple are referred to as “brother priests” (ἱερεῖς

24. ἔξοθεν πωλῆσαι, ἀλ|λ\ὰ\ λ\α\μβανέτω\ ἐκ τοῦ | κοινοῦ στατῆρες τριά|κοντα καὶ ἀποχωρείτω. | ἐὰν δ\έ τινος ἀδελφὸς | θελήσει ἀποπωλῆσ|α\ι,\ ἀγοραζέσθωσαν οἱ | ἕτεροι ἀδελφοί. εἰ δὲ μὴ | θέλωσιν οἱ ἀδελφοί, τό|τε λανβάντωσαν τὸ πρ|ογεγραμμένον κερ[μ]|άτιον καὶ ἐκχωρείτω[σα|ν] ἐκ τοῦ κονοῦ (sic) ὅταν δέ | τις ἀποθάνῃ καὶ μὴ συνεξενένκῃ τις (column b = lines 21–35). 25. Cf. IKilikiaBM I 34; IKilikiaBM II 196, 197, 198, 199, 200. 26. Also see van Nijf 1997, 46–49, who recognizes that this is an example of fi ctive sibling language despite his view that such practice was rare. 70 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians ἀδελφοί).27 A similar dedication for victory involving subordinate temple functionaries has been found at nearby Mylasa, in which two men are called “good, brother under-priests” (καλῶν ἀ|δελφῶν ὑποιερέ|ων; IMylasa 544). Further north and east in the province of Asia, at Synaos in the Aezanatis valley (northeast of Sardis), a recently discovered epitaph of the second century involves an individual functionary consecrated to the god (a ἱερός) who is referred to as “brother hieros” (MAMA X 437; cf. SEG 43 [1993], no. 893). Although we know very litt le about these functionaries, a patt ern of usage is becoming clear which extends beyond just one locale. It would be diffi cult to explain these cases away as references to real brothers who happened to be fellow-priests, as Poland seems aware.28 Th e term brother could be used of fellow-functionaries as a term of belonging in the sett ing of sanctuaries, as was also the case in Egypt as I discuss below. Other evidence is forthcoming from Asia Minor, the Aegean, and Greece, this time involving unoffi cial associations. A monument dedicated to “God Most High” (Th eos Hypsistos) at Sinope in Pontus, which need not be considered Judean in any way, refers to the group as “the vowing brothers (οἱ ἀδελφοὶ εὐξάμενοι).”29 Although less than certain, it is quite possible that the four named men on a grave (ἡρῷον) from the vicinity of Iasos (north of Halicarnassos) who refer to themselves as “the brotherly-loving and unwavering male shippers of Phileros” (τῶν Φιλέρωτος φι|λαδέλφων ἀνδρων ναυκλήρων ἀπλανήτων) may not literally be brothers, but rather members of a guild under the leadership of Phi- leros.30 It is worth noting that there are comparable, fi gurative uses of “brotherly love” or “familial aff ection” (φιλάδελφοι) in connection with fellow-members of an association at Latium (Italy) devoted to Hygeia (IG XIV 902a, p. 694 [addenda]) and among members of Judean groups in Egypt, Rome, and, possibly, Syria.31 Quite well known are Paul’s and 1 Peter’s use of “brotherly / sisterly love” (φιλαδελφία) terminology of the relationship

27. IGLAM 503 a and b; Newton and Pullan 1862–63, 2.704–5, no. 12c; cf. Bean and Cook 1955, 103, no. 17; IAsMinLyk I 1. Th ese and other “victory” inscriptions which have been found at Halikar- nassos, Mylasa, Didyma, and Kos are sometimes etched (almost as graffi ti) onto preexisting monuments (cf. IMylasa 541–564). Unfounded is the suggestion of G. Cousin and Ch. Diehl (followed uncritically by F. H. Marshall in the notes to GIBM IV 920 and 934) that all of the victory inscriptions, especially those that mention “brothers,” are Christian epitaphs or remembrances referring to victory through martyrdom (Cousin and Diehl 1890, 114–18, no. 18). See IKos 65 and 69–72, where E. L. Hicks and W. R. Paton (1891) reject the previous view and more reasonably suggest that these inscriptions refer to victory in competitions (cf. IKos 65 and IMylasa 554, which involve ephebes). It is worth mentioning the possibility that some of these are dedications by priests within guilds of athletes or performers, where “priest” was a common title for a cultic functionary (see the discussion of athletic guilds further below). 28. Poland prefers to dismiss these apparent cases of pagan “brother priests” by categorizing the inscriptions as Christian, citing no evidence in support (Poland 1909, 55 n. ***); he is likely depending on the problematic suggestion of Cousin and Diehl (see previous note). Secondarily, he suggests that if they are pagan, then these are real brothers. 29. Doublet 1889, 303–4, no. 7; cf. Ustinova 1999, 185–86. It is unsatisfactory to reject this case with a claim that this is Judean syncretism (and therefore not Greek), as does Bömer 1981 [1958–63], 173. Poland mentions this case but suggests that these are probably real brothers (Poland 1909, 55). 30. Cousin and Deschamps 1894, 21, no. 11. On the use of φιλάδελφοι, -αι among blood relatives see NewDocs II 80 and III 74; MAMA VIII 132, line 13; IBithynia III 2 (= IKlaudiupolis 75), 7 and 8. 31. For likely fi gurative Judean uses, seeIEgJud 114 (near Heliopolis; fi rst cent. bce or fi rst cent. “Brothers” in Associations and Congregations 71 among members of congregations, as when Paul exhorts followers of Jesus at Rome to demonstrate “heart-felt aff ections toward one another with brotherly love” (τῇ φιλαδελφίᾳ εἰς ἀλλ ήλους φιλόστοργοι) (Rom 12:10).32 In connection with such means of expressing ties with fellow members of a group, it is important to point out another clear case from Asia Minor in which similar terms of familial closeness are used among members of an association, even though brother language happens not to be evident. In an epitaph from Tlos in Lycia, the members of a “society” (θίασος) honour a deceased member, sett ing up the grave stone “on account of” their “heart-felt aff ection” (φιλοστοργία) for the deceased society-member.33 With regard to the root for love or aff ection (φιλ-), in chapter 1 I discussed the fact that the term “dear ones” or “friends” (οἱ φίλοι) was a common means of expressing positive connections with others within associations, particularly in Asia Minor. And we will soon encounter instances where “brothers” and “friends” are used almost interchangeably as terms of belonging within associations in Egypt. Th ere are other incidental references from around the Aegean that att est to the use of fi ctive sibling language within associations. In discussing the associations of late Hellenis- tic Rhodes, P. M. Fraser draws att ention to two cases where sibling language is likely used of fellow-members of immigrant or ethnic associations.34 Th e clearer of the two involves a funerary dedication for a man and a woman who are also termed “heroized siblings” (ἀδελφῶν ἡρώων). As Fraser points out, this is a clear case where the basic meaning of “blood siblings” is not possible. He argues that although the meaning of “spouse” as in Egyptian papyri remains a possibility, it seems “more plausible to regard both parties, male and female, who are foreigners, as ‘brothers’ in the sense of fellow members of a koinon [association].”35 In a similar vein, Onno van Nijf, who in other respects downplays the frequency of brother-language, nonetheless discusses a third-century inscription from Th essalonica in Macedonia. Th is involves a collective tomb of an association with individually allott ed niches: “For Tyche. I have made this niche in commemoration of my own partner out of joint eff orts. If one of my brothers dares to open this niche, he shall pay . . .” (IG X.2.1 824). Interestingly enough, as van Nijf argues, here one sees fi ctive sibling language of belonging alongside a concern to preserve this particular niche from further use by the very same fellow-members of the association. “Brotherhood apparently failed to prevent some brethren from reopening niches to add the remains of another deceased person, or even to remove the remains of the lawful occupant.”36 Th ere are also some surviving instances from Greece and elsewhere in which those of ce), IEurJud II 528 (Rome), and IJO III Syr70 (with David Noy’s notes; cf. 2 Macc 15:14). Cf. IEgJud 86, IEurJud II 171 (Rome; third-fourth cent. ce) (either literal or fi ctive). Also see 1 Pet 3:8. 32. Cf. 1 Th ess 4:9; 1 Pet 1:22 and 3:8; Heb 13:1; 2 Pet 1:7. 33. ὁ θίασος ἐπὶ Μάσᾳ τῷ θ\[ια]σείτᾳ | φ\ιλοστοργίας ἕνεκε[ν] (TAM II 640). On the meaning of φιλοστοργία (“aff ection” or “heartfelt love,” as Horsley puts it in one case), see Robert 1965, 38–42, and, more extensively, Horsley in NewDocs II 80, III 11, and IV 33 (cf. Rom 12:10). Horsley had not yet encountered this case, it seems. 34. Fraser 1977, 74, 78, 164–65 nn. 430–37. Cf. NewDocs II 14. 35. Fraser 1977, 74. 36. Van Nijf 1997, 46 (with trans). 72 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians a common occupation or common civic position, sometimes members of an ongoing guild or organization, address one another as “brother” in a fi gurative sense. A third-century decree from Chalcis in Euboia (Greece) involves an important civic board (συνέδριον) and the people (δῆμος). In response to a temple-warden’s (Aurelius Hermodoros’s) generous benefactions to the sanctuary, Amyntas and Ulpius Pamphilos propose that Hermodoros’s descendants be honoured with continuous possession of this temple-wardenship (likely of Tyche). Th e inscription happens to preserve the statement of the clerk of the board who seeks a vote on whether the members of the board agree to grant these honours “according to all of your intentions and the proposal of the brother Pamphilos” (SIG3 898 = IG XII.9 906, lines 18–20).37 Here a fellow-member of the organization is clearly addressed as “brother” in an incidental manner, which suggests that this was normal practice in this sett ing. Th ere are several other instances of persons of a common occupation (sometimes, though not always, involving membership in a guild) referring to one another (in Greek) as “brother,” including a rhetor at Baeterrae in Gaul who called another “the brother rhetor” (IG XIV 2516), athletes at Rome (IGUR 246), and several diff erent professionals in Egypt, which I discuss below, including undertakers and athletes.38 Arzt-Grabner also deals with a number of cases in papyri involving offi cials or business partners who address one another as “brother.”39 Turning north of Greece and Asia Minor, fi ctive sibling language occurs in the associations of the Bosporus region on the northern coast of the Black Sea, in what is now southern Ukraine and southern Russia.40 Greek inscriptions from Tanais att est to numerous associations devoted to “God Most High” (Th eos Hypsistos) in the fi rst three centuries (CIRB 1260–88). Membership consisted of men only who were drawn from the mixed Greek and Iranian (Sarmatian) populations of this community. Th e groups used several self- designations, some calling themselves “the synod which is gathered around Th eos Hypsistos,” or “the synod which is gathered around the priest.”41 Th ese particular inscriptions happen not to make any reference to any informal, fraternal language of belonging that was used among members. But several inscriptions do indicate that an important leader within many of these groups held the title of “father of the synod” (CIRB 1263, 1277, 1282, 1288). Particularly signifi cant here are four inscriptions from Tanais (dating to the fi rst decades of the third century) which pertain to an association that took on fi ctive sibling language as an offi cial title for the group over several decades, calling themselves “the adopted brothers worshiping Th eos Hypsistos’ (ἰσοποιητοὶ ἀδελφοὶ σεβόμενοι θεὸν ὕψιστον; CIRB 1281, 1283, 1285, 1286; ca. 212–240 ce). In a fi hft inscription, the editors have restored the title of another association as the “society of brothers’’ (θίησ[ος τῶν ἀ]δελ[φῶν] [sic]; CIRB 1284). Th e idea that we are here witnessing the development of fraternal language from

37. Bömer att ributes this case to “Roman infl uence” without explanation (Bömer 1981 [1958– 63], 172). Cf. PTebtunis I 12 (118 bce), 19 (114 bce), and 55 (late second cent. bce); cf. Moulton and Milligan 1952, 9; Arzt-Grabner 2002, 188 n. 13. 38. Cf. Fraser 1977, 164 n. 433. 39. Arzt-Grabner 2002, 189–92, 195–99. 40. See Ustinova 1999, 183–96. 41. CIRB 1278, 1279, 1280, 1282, for the former; CIRB 1260, 1262, 1263, 1264, 1277, 1287, 1288, for the latt er. “Brothers” in Associations and Congregations 73 informal usage among members of associations into a title, and that brother language was likely common in these and other groups from the region at earlier points, is further suggested by epitaphs from Iluraton (mid-second century) and Panticipaion (early third century). Members in these two associations, at least, had been using the informal address of “brother” but had not come to take on this fraternal language as a group title. In each case, the membership of a “synod” honours a deceased fellow with a memorial and happens to express in stone its positive feelings for the lost member by calling him “its own brother” (τὸν ἴδιον ἀδελφόν; CIRB 104, 967).42 In the latt er group at Panticipaion, familial language was also used of a leader, who was known as “father of the synod.” Since Emil Schürer’s study of the Bosporan Hypsistos inscriptions in 1897, it has been common for certain scholars to suggest Judean infl uence here (especially at Tanais), but this is highly problematic.43 Many follow Schürer in holding the view that these were associations of gentiles or “god-fearers” honouring the Judean god as Th eos Hypsistos, partly because of the coincidence of Acts-like language for gentile sympathizers here and because of evidence from elsewhere for the description of the Judean God as “god most high,” following language in the Septuagint (a Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible from the third century bce). However, Yulia Ustinova’s exhaustive study of the Bosporan evidence for associations and for the worship of gods with the epithet Hypsistos convincingly demonstrates the weaknesses of Schürer’s proposal and shows that these groups at Tanais, in particular, are best understood as associations devoted to a Hellenized, Iranian deity, with no Judean connection involved.44 Th e case of associations in the Bosporus region draws att ention to another facet of familial expressions of identity in the Greek East which should be noticed before going on to brother language within associations in Egypt and in the mysteries. Th ere are numerous examples of “father of the synod” in associations of this region, for instance, and we have seen that, in at least one case from Panticipaion, “father” is used within a group that also (informally) employs the term “brothers” for members (CIRB 104).45 Similarly, as I discuss below, a group of initiates in the mysteries in Egypt referred to its leader as “father” and fellow-initiates also called one another “brothers,” and a guild of athletes at Rome likewise used both “father” for a leader and “brother” among members. As I discuss at length in the next chapter, there are many other times when, although we do not necessarily witness sibling terminology specifi cally, we do clearly encounter other familial or parental language to express connections or belonging in associations. Th ere is, in fact, strong evidence pointing to the importance of such metaphorical parental and parent–child language in Greek cities generally and within local associations in these

42. Cf. Ustinova 1999, 188, 200. 43. Schürer 1897, 200–25; cf. Goodenough 1956–57. For the revival of Schürer’s theory, see Levinskaya 1996, 111, 244–45; Mitchell 1999, 116–17. 44. See Ustinova 1999, 203–39. Cf. Noy, Panayotov, and Bloedhorn 2004, 323, who exclude this Tanais evidence from their collection of Judean inscriptions. While there were small Judean communities at Panticapaion, Gorgippia, and Phanagoria in the Bosporus region, there is no evidence for Judeans several hundred kilometers away at Tanais. 45. Out of thirty att ested associations at Panticipaion (CIRB 75–108), eight use the title: CIRB 77 (second-third cent. ce), 96 (second cent. ce), 98 (214 ce), 99 (221 ce), 100, 103 (third cent. ce), 104 (third cent. ce), 105 (third cent. ce). 74 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians cities of Asia Minor, Greece, Th racia, and other regions in the fi rst three centuries. Such evidence highlights the signifi cance of familial terms of identifi cation in many groups and contexts beyond Christianity. In some cases when members of an association regularly referred to their leader as “mother,” “father,” or even “papa,” I would suggest, they were alluding to the same sort of connections and identifi cations within the group that the term “brothers” or “sisters” would evoke.

Egypt and Initiates in the Mysteries

Evidence from Hellenistic and Roman Egypt also strongly suggests that it would be problematic to argue that fi ctive familial language was insignifi cant within associations or that it was merely a late development (from Roman, western infl uence) within association life in the East. As with epigraphic evidence from other parts of the eastern Mediterranean, inscriptions from Egypt provide only momentary glimpses of the use of sibling language within associations and other cultic sett ings. For this region, however, the shortcomings of epigraphic evidence are somewhat counterbalanced by the survival of lett ers and other documents on papyri, the ancient equivalent of paper (as a result of the dry Egyptian cli- mate). Not surprisingly, as with our evidence for Pauline and other Christian groups, it is within the context of personal address in lett ers that the use of fi ctive kinship language becomes more visible. Papyri reveal that kinship terminology was used in a variety of ways within lett ers in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, including the use of the terms “brother” or “sister” as titles among royalty, as a designation of a spouse, and as a term of aff ection among close friends.46 Arzt-Grabner’s study collects together a number of clear cases from papyri (dating from the second century bce to the third century ce) in which those who are not literally related address offi cials, friends, or business partners as “brothers.”47 Yet there are also other cases of this practice involving co-workers or co-devotees of a deity or deities who were active within the same sanctuaries or who belonged to associations or other organizations.48 As early as the second century of the Hellenistic era, we have instances in which persons belonging to a common profession, organization, and/or circle of devotees express connections with their fellows by using fi ctive kinship terminology. oughTh it is possible that two papyri regarding associations of embalmers (χοαχύται) at Th ebes (late second century) involve actual family members addressed as “siblings,” several scholars following

46. Cf. NewDocs I 17; NewDocs IV 15; BGU IV 1209. 47. Arzt-Grabner 2002. Offi cials: BGU VIII 1755, 1770, 1788 (60s bce); SB XVI 12835 (10 ce). Friends: BGU VIII 1874 (fi rst cent. bce);POxy XVII 2148; SB V 7661; POxy XLII 3057 (fi rst-second cent. ce); SB XIV 11644 (fi rst-second cent. ce). Business partners:BGU I 248–49, II 531, 594–95, 597 (70s ce); BGU XVI 2607 (15 bce); POxy LV 3808 (fi rst-second cent. ce);OClaud I 158 (110 ce) and II 226 (mid-second cent. ce). 48. For Christian papyri using “beloved brother” as an address see the list in NewDocs IV 124. Plutarch shows an awareness of the common fi ctive use of sibling language within the context of friendships when he speaks against a man “who addresses his companion (ἑταῖρος) as brother in salu- tations and lett ers, but does not care even to walk with his own brother” (De fr at. amor. 479D). “Brothers” in Associations and Congregations 75 Amedeo Peyron have argued that in some of these cases “brothers” is more likely used of members in a guild that included nonfamily members.49 More certain is the case in which the head of a military association, the high-priest, is addressed as “brother” in a fi rst century bce lett er (BGU VIII 1770; 64/3 bce).50 Th e so-called Sarapeum correspondence from Memphis in Egypt provides snap-shots of relations among those active within the sanctuaries of the gods Sarapis and Anubis in the second century bce (see UPZ volume 1 for the papyri). Memphis was located on the west bank of the Nile, about 245 km south of Alexandria, or 20 km south of Cairo. Many lett ers on papyri have survived concerning these closely associated sanctuaries which were on the edge of town, lett ers that shed light on functionaries and administration, as well as the importance of the “detainees” (κάτοχοι), who were (voluntarily) being “held fast” or “detained” (κατέχω; cf. παρακατέχω) in the service of Sarapis.51 Most of the correspondence came into the possession of one Ptolemaios, from Macedonia, who was a “detainee” in the Sarapeum for at least twenty years (from 172–152 bce or beyond). Several of the lett ers pertain to Ptolemaios’s friends, fellow-devotees, and family, including his actual brothers, Sarapion, Hippalos, and Apollonios (the younger). Long ago, both Brunet de Presle and Walter Ott o pointed to the frequency of “brother” as a title of address in the Sarapeum papyri and suggested that brother terminology was used among those who were “detainees” of Sarapis, who formed an association within the Sara- peum at Memphis.52 Several others have likewise suggested that “detainees,” in particular, formed a closely connected “brotherhood,” and some of these scholars suggest a parallelism with Christian notions of a brotherhood.53 However, Ulrich Wilcken challenges the suggestion of widespread sibling language among the “detainees.”54 Wilcken points out that many of the fi ctive instances of “brother” in the Sarapeum papyri do not certainly involve members of the “detainees” addressing one another as “brother,” and he goes as far as to state that the titles “brother” and “father” have “no religious meaning” in this papyri collection.55

49. See UPZ II 162 = PTor 1, column 1, lines 11 and 19–20, and column 6, lines 33–34 (116 bce); UPZ II 180a = PParis 5 column 2, line 5 (114 bce). Early on, Peyron (1827, 68–69), who was aware of the family trees of embalmers, argued that the reference (in PTor 1, line 19–20) to “these brothers who off er services in the cemeteries,” as well as the “brothers” mentioned in column 1, line 11, and column 6, lines 33–34, involve men that were not all related as brothers, and that the term is here used of fellow-members of a guild (on the family trees, see Pestman 1993, 14–27). Ziebarth (1896, 100–101), Walter Ott o (1975 [1905–8], 1.104 n. 2), and San Nicolo (1972, 33–34 n. 4) agree with Peyron’s evaluation (cf. Moulton and Milligan 1952, 9). 50. Cf. Arzt-Grabner 2002, 190; San Nicolo 1972, 1.198–200. 51. UPZ I 8 = PLond I 44, lines 18–19, speaks of a κάτοχος as “one of the therapeutists who are held fast by Sarapis.” Also see IPriene 195 (line 28) and ISmyrna 725 (= CIG 3163) for a similar use of being “held fast” by Sarapis. For groups of “therapeutists” devoted to Serapis and/or Isis see IDelos 2077, 2080–81 (second-fi rst cent. bce);SIRIS 318–19 (Kyzikos; fi rst cent. ce);IMagnSip 15 (= SIRIS 307; second cent. bce and second cent. ce); IPergamon 338 (= SIRIS 314). 52. See Brunet de Presle’s notes to PParis 42 (= UPZ I 64), in Letronne, de Presle, and Egger 1865, 308; Ott o 1975 [1905–8], 1.124 n. 3 (cf. p. 1.119 n. 1). 53. Cf. Deissmann 1901, 87–88; Milligan 1969 [1910], 22; Moulton and Milligan 1952, 9; Liddell and Scott 1940, 20. 54. Wilcken in the notes to UPZ I 64, p. 319. 55. Apollonios on several occasions addresses his brother, Ptolemaios, as “father” in a show 76 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Although Wilcken is right that the term “brother” in the Sarapeum papyri is not limited to members of an association, he goes too far in dismissing the potential cultic and social meanings of this term as an expression of att achment among those who were active or served within the sanctuaries of Anubis and Sarapis: that is, fellow-devotees or fellow- functionaries, though not necessarily members of an association. Clearly, there is a relatively high occurrence of “brother” as a fi ctive form of address in the Serapeum papyri as compared to papyri generally. In several cases, there are indications that the terminology is used among those who feel a sense of solidarity within a circle of friends or in an organization that served the gods within the sanctuaries (UPZ I 61, 62, 64, 69, 71, 72, 109). Th us, for instance, Barkaios, an overseer of the guards at the Anubis sanctuary, addresses the younger Apollonios, a guard, as “brother” (UPZ I 64 = PParis 42; 156 bce).56 Barkaios writes to his subordinate, though fellow, functionary in the service of Anubis in order to thank him for his service in reporting prison escapes. Similarly, in another lett er the younger Apollonios addresses as “brother” the elder Apollonios, who was then “leader and superintendent of the Anubieum” (UPZ I 69 = PParis 45; 152 bce). Th e younger Apollonios’s close ties with this leader in the sanctuary of Anubis are further confi rmed by the younger Apollonios’s lett er to Ptolemaios, at about this time, in which the younger Apollonios expresses concern about the well-being of both his actual brother and this elder Apollonios (UPZ I 68; 152 bce). Finally, in the same year, the elder Apollonios addresses as “brother” Ptolemaios, writing to this “detainee” of Sarapis concerning the younger Apollonios (UPZ I 71 = PParis 46; 152 bce). It is worth mentioning the possibility that some of these correspondents of the younger Apollonios and Ptolemaios were themselves previously among the “detainees” in the Sara- peum, as was Apollonios in the summer of 158 bce alongside his actual brother Ptolemaios, who was held fast for over twenty years. Yet even without this scenario, these lett ers clearly suggest that we should not so quickly disregard the possible social and cultic meaning of “brother” to express close ties among these men who were consistently involved in the sanctuaries in a functional role and, likely, as devotees of the gods (Sarapis, Anubis, and others) whom they served together. Other evidence suggests that fi ctive sibling terminology was also used among initiates in mysteries who sometimes formed associations in Egypt and elsewhere. Th is despite the fact that initiations and the shared experiences among initiates were highly secretive, and our sources tend to respect this secrecy. As I discuss in the next chapter, parental language (“mother” or “father”) was used of leaders within associations devoted to the mysteries of Dionysos, the Great Mother, Sarapis, and others, and the term “papa” was used of functionaries within a group of initiates of Dionysos. Furthermore, a partially damaged third-century ce papyrus from Oxyrhynchos (about 160 km south-southwest of Cairo) contains an oath pertaining to initiation into mysteries. Th e man pronouncing the oath happens to mention both the leader of the group, “father Sarapion,” and his fellow-initiates,

of respect (cf. UPZ I 65, 68, 70, 93). Apollonios was not a “detainee” at the time, however, as was Ptolemaios. 56. For a translation of this lett er see White 1986, 72–73, no. 39. “Brothers” in Associations and Congregations 77 the “brothers,” perhaps “mystical brothers” (μυστικο]ὺς ἀδελφούς).57 Similarly, in the second and third centuries, those who were initiated into associations in Italy and the West devoted to Jupiter Dolichenus (Syrian Ba‘al), Mithras, and others used both fraternal and paternal language (fr atres, pater in Latin) within the group, but in these particular cases we are witnessing primarily Roman phenomena.58 Other incidental references to fi ctive sibling language used among initiates in the Greek mysteries can be cited, some from an earlier era. Although Walter Burkert downplays the notion of community feelings among initiates, he nonetheless acknowledges the use of “brother” among those initiated into the mysteries of Demeter and Kore at Eleusis, near Athens.59 Th us, for instance, Plato speaks of two men as “brothers” because of their strong friendship arising from their shared participation in both stages (“initiation” and “viewing”) of initiation at Eleusis (ξενίξειν τε καὶ μυεῖν καὶ ἐποπτεύειν πραγματεύονται).60 Several centuries later, Sopatros (Sopater) the rhetor refl ects continued use of the term “brother” among those being initiated at Eleusis specifi cally.61 Analogous expressions drawing on the model of the mysteries further confi rm this picture. In his second-century treatise on astrology, Vetius Valens addresses the “initiate” in the secrets of astrology as follows: “I entreat you, most honorable brother of mine, along with the others who are initiated . . .” (ὀρκίζω σε, ἀδελφή μου τιμιώτατε, καί τοῦς μυσταγωγουμένους; Anthology 4.11.11; ca. 170 ce). Th e magical papyri also happen to refl ect this practice when, in a prayer, the speaker is directed to refer to fellow-devotees in the following manner: “Hail to those to whom the greeting is given with blessing, to brothers and sisters, to holy men and holy women.”62 Turning from initiates to other associations in Roman Egypt, Robert W. Daniel devotes some att ention to the practice of familial address within occupational associations, discussing several papyri from the second and third centuries ce.63 Several involve associations of athletes (see the bronze statue of an athlete in fi gure 8). In one third-century lett er from Antinoopolis (about 280 km south of Cairo), the leader (ξυστάρχης) of an athletic association writes to one Andronikos, who is addressed as “brother” both in the external address

57. PSI X 1162 as read by Wilcken 1932, 257–59. 58. Devotees of Dolichenus at Rome called their priest “father of the candidates” (pater candi- datorum) and fellow-initiates “brothers” (fr atres; cf. Hö rig und Schwertheim 1987, nos. 274, 373, 375, 376, 381 [second-third cent. ce]; Ebel 2004, 205–7). On the use of “father” (pater) or “father of the mysteries” (pater sacrorum) in the mysteries of Mithras, see CIL III 3384, 3415, 3959, 4041; CIMRM 623–24; Tertullian Apol. 8. On the “Arval brothers” (fr atres arvales) in Rome, see Beard, North, and Price 1998, 1:194–96. Cf. Bömer 1981 [1958–63], 176–78; CIL VI 467; CIL VI 2233; Schelkle 1954, 633; Waltzing 1895–1900, 1.329–30 n. 3. 59. Burkert 1987, 45, 149, n. 77. 60. Plato Epistles 333d-e; cf. Plutarch Dion. 54.1; Andocides 1.132. 61. Division of Questions 339 in Walz 1843, 123 (fourth cent. ce). 62. Trans. by Grese in Betz 1992, 60 (PGM IV 1135; ca. 300 ce). Similarly, a member of a pagan circle worshiping Hermes Trismegistus in the fourth century ce (named Th eophanes) uses the term “beloved brother” of his fellows (see S. R. Llewelyn’s comments in NewDocs VI 25, on p. 175; cf. Cor- pus Hermetica 1.32). 63. Daniel 1979, 37–46. 78 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians

Figure 8. Bronze statue of an athlete scraping oil fr om his body in connection with a competition, now in the Ephesos Museum, Vienna (Roman copy of a Greek original fr om ca. 320 bce)

(verso) and in the text of the lett er (PRyl IV 604, lines 32–33, as reedited by Daniel).64 More importantly, all of the names mentioned, no less than four other men (some of whom are also termed “friend” [φίλος]), are likewise designated “brother” in the body of the lett er: brother Eutolmios (line 13), brother Heraiskos (15), brother Apynchis (28), and brother Th eodosios (34). Daniel convincingly shows that these are fellow-members of an athletic association, not real siblings, being addressed as brothers.65 Further strengthening this interpretation is another parallel case from Oxyrhynchos. Th is lett er was writt en from one leader of an athletic guild to another, who is addressed as a “brother.” Two others are likewise called “brother” in the body of the lett er, which concerns the aff airs of a guild of athletes (PSI III 236; third century ce). Th ere is another important, though late, example of such use of familial language

64. Th e term ἡγεμών is att ested in associations and organizations elsewhere: e.g., IG II.2 1993– 1995 (Athens; ca. 80 ce); IGR I 787 (Baccheion of Asians in Th racia). 65. Cf. OGIS 189 (89 or 57 bce, involving a gymnastic organization at Philai); San Nicolo 1972, 1.33–34 n. 4. “Brothers” in Associations and Congregations 79

Figure 9. Bronze lamp depicting Herakles (patron deity of athletes) fi ghting a centaur, now in the Ephesos Museum, Vienna (ca. 150–100 bce) within a well-established professional guild of athletes at Rome, which is not discussed by Daniel but is worth mentioning here. Th e “sacred, athletic, wandering, world-wide association,” which was devoted to the god Herakles (see a photo of this god in fi gure 9), had a signifi cantly long history. Originally based in Asia Minor (probably at Ephesos), the headquarters of this guild (which also had local branches at various locations in the East) was moved to Rome some time in the second century, probably around 143 ce.66 A Greek inscription from the time of Constantine reveals that, at least by this time and likely earlier as well, the members of this “world-wide” organization expressed positive connections with fellow-members using familial metaphors. Well-respected members are repeatedly called “our brother” (τοῦ ἀδελφοῦ ἡμῶν) in the inscription and the high priest of the guild is called “our father” (τοῦ πατρός ἡμῶν) (IGUR 246 = IG XIV 956B, lines 11, 12, 14). Such evidence from both Egypt and Rome suggests that the practice of using fi ctive kinship language within groups of athletes and other guilds may have been more widespread than our limited sources would initially suggest. Finally, Daniel discusses a second-century papyrus from Ptolemais Hermou in the

66. See Pleket 1973, 197–227, on IGUR 235–48. Cf. IEph 1084, 1089, 1098. 80 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Fayum region of Egypt (about 120 km south of Cairo) that almost certainly involves undertakers (νεκροτάφοι), the successors of our embalmers of the Ptolemaic period, so to speak.67 Th ese undertakers of the Roman period were formed into guilds, and it is worth mentioning that this occupation, which involved the transportation, embalming, and burial of the dead, was taken on by both men and women.68 Th e lett er in question is writt en from Pap- saus to Asklas, who is addressed as both “friend” on the outside address and as “brother” in the lett er opening (PPetaus 28). In light of the evidence discussed thus far, Daniel seems right in arguing that these are not merely “conventional, meaningless terms of address,” but rather refl ections of the everyday terminology used among members of these (and other) guilds.69 According to the body of the lett er, Papsaus was in trouble and seeking the help of his fellow-undertaker. Papsaus had sent to Asklas the body of a Roman legionary to be sent on to its fi nal destination, but for some reason the body had not reached its fi nal destination. As a result Papsaus was faced with possible disciplinary action by a leader (ἡγεμών) which, as Daniel shows, was most likely the guild president (not a Roman military offi cer or the provincial prefect in this case). Although partly to blame, here a fellow guild member, as “brother” and “friend,” was sought for help.

Conclusion

Owing to the nature of our sources, we cannot be sure that fi ctive sibling language was widespread within associations or that it had the same meaning that “brothers” developed within certain groups of Jesus-followers, such as those associated with Paul. Yet what is clear is that many scholars have underestimated the evidence and the signifi cance of fi ctive kinship language as a means of expressing belonging within associations and organizations of various kinds (ethnic, occupational, gymnastic, civic, cultic, and other groups). Inscrip- tions from Greece, Asia Minor, and Greek cities of the Danube and Bosporus, as well as papyri from Egypt, suggest that familial language was used within small-group sett ings in reference to fellow-members as “brothers” or (less oft en) “sisters.” Th e happenstance nature of evidence from epigraphy would suggest that these are momentary snap-shots of what was likely common usage within some other associations about which we happen to know less. In paying more att ention to surviving materials, we begin to see common ground among some associations, synagogues, and congregations in the expression of belonging and group identity. Th is notwithstanding the fact that it is extremely diffi cult to measure the relative importance or depth of meaning att ached to such familial language in specifi c instances. What sorts of social relations and obligations accompanied the metaphorical use of sibling language within associations? It is important to remember that ancient values and social relations would not be the same as our modern notions of family or sibling relations. Although there is litt le direct information about the meanings which members of

67. Cf. Ott o 1975 [1905–8], 1.108–10, 2.180 n. 1. On various kinds of occupations and guilds relating to burial, see Youtie 1940, 650–57. 68. See San Nicolo 1972, 97–100. 69. Daniel 1979, 41. “Brothers” in Associations and Congregations 81 associations att ached to calling a fellow-member brother, we can nonetheless make some inferences from literary discussions of familial relations. Th ese discussions help to clarify the real-life experiences and expectations that would give meaning to the metaphor or analogy. Although presenting ideals of family relations from a philosophical perspective, for instance, Plutarch’s discussion On Brotherly Love (early second cent. ce) nonetheless refl ects commonly held views that would inform fi ctive uses of these terms of relation in the Greek world, one would expect.70 For Plutarch and others the ideal sibling relation is marked by “goodwill” (εὔνοια; Plutarch De fr at. amor. 481C), and brothers are “united in their emotions and actions” (De fr at. amor. 480C).71 Foremost is the ideal of solidarity and identifi cation. “Friendship” (φιλία) is one of the strongest analogies that Plutarch can evoke in explaining (in a Platonic manner) the nature of relations among brothers and between parents and children: “For most friendships are in reality shadows, imitations, and images of that fi rst friendship which nature implanted in children toward parents and in brothers toward brothers” (De fr at. amor. 479C-D). Conversely, the term “brothers” was a natural way of expressing close social relations among friends in an association. For Plutarch and others in antiquity there is a hierarchy of honour (τιμή, δόξα) that should be the basis of familial and other relations. Brothers come before friends: “even if we feel an equal aff ection for a friend, we should always be careful to reserve for a brother the fi rst place . . . whenever we deal with occasions which in the eyes of the public give distinction and tend to confer honour” (δόξαν) (De fr at. amor. 491B). Beyond this, nature and law “have assigned to parents, aft er gods, fi rst and greatest honour” (τιμὴν) De( fr at. amor. 479F). Th ese Greco-Roman family ideals of solidarity, goodwill, aff ection, friendship, protection, glory, and honour would be the sorts of values that would come to the minds of those who drew on the analogy of family relationships to express connections with other members of the group, I would suggest. When a member of a guild called a fellow “brother” that member was (at times) expressing in down-to-earth terms relations of solidarity, aff ection, or friendship, such that the association may have been a second home. In the next chapter, I deal with further evidence regarding such familial forms of relation in associations, including those that involve “mothers” and “fathers.”

70. Cf. Aasgaard 2004, chapter 6. 71. Trans. Hembold 1927–69 (LCL) 4

“Mothers” and “Fathers” in Associations and Synagogues

Introduction

As I demonstrated in the previous chapter, familial language of belonging could play an important role in internal defi nitions of identity among members of certain groups. In some cases, an association could to a certain extent be considered a fi ctive family. This was true not only within Pauline or other Christian congregations, but also within associations where fi ctive sibling language was used among fellow-members. Th at chapter also showed that there are clear problems with interpreting the Chris- tian use of family language as unique, or as a sign of the sectarian or socially distinguished status of these groups. In fact, you could argue that those Jesus-followers who did engage in this practice were adopting and adapting common modes of identity expression from society more broadly. Th ese cultural minority groups were, in certain respects, mirroring society and mirroring associations within that society that looked to the family as a model of community. Familial language, with its accompanying values of honour, solidarity, and aff ection, served to strengthen bonds within the group and could at times become part of a group’s public presentation of itself. In this chapter, I turn to further evidence for the use of familial terminology in associations, including Judean (Jewish) synagogues. Moreover, the use of parental language within synagogues further demonstrates the ways in which these ethnic associations or cultural minority groups could assimilate widespread means of expressing group identity from the majority culture. Th e use of parental metaphors in associations has drawn limited att ention within two scholarly circles. On the one hand, those who study Judean synagogues in the diaspora have engaged in some debate regarding the titles “mother of the synagogue” and “father of the synagogue.” Th e focus here has oft en been on whether or not the title also entailed some functional leadership role within these gatherings.1 On the other hand, classicists and ancient historians (especially around the turn of the twentieth century) have touched

1. For earlier discussions see, for instance, Schürer 1897, 29–32; Leon 1995 [1960], 186–88; Hengel 1966, 145–83. For a summary of the scholarly debate up to 1982, see Brooten 1982, 57–72. Most recently, see Levine 2000, 404–6.

82 “Mothers” and “Fathers” in Associations and Synagogues 83 upon the use of “father” or “mother” as an honorary designation in connection with guilds and associations. Franz Poland (1909), for instance, att empted to deal with the question of whether or not the practice was signifi cantin the Greek East, and came to a negative conclusion.2 Yet these two scholarly interests have not met in a substantial comparative study of fi ctive parental language in connection with synagogues and associations. Such a comparison is especially fi tting in light of recent scholarship’s emphasis on the ways in which Judean synagogues were, in important respects, considered associations.3 Furthermore, rarely have scholars in either of the two fi elds fully explored the social and cultural framework of this usage in the Greek-speaking, eastern Mediterranean and in immigrant Greek-speaking sett ings in the West. Focusing on this material, I argue that parental metaphors were more widespread in the cities of the eastern, Greek-speaking provinces of the Roman Empire than oft en acknowledged. Th is includes substantial evidence regarding associations specifi cally, which suggests that such terminology was an important way of expressing honour, social hierarchy, and/or belonging within the group. Although questions of cultural infl uence are diffi cult to assess, a careful look at the evidence suggests that we cannot explain many cases in Greek inscriptions with a claim of western infl uence. In fact, it seems likely that the initial cultural infl uence was the other way around, from Greek to Roman. Moreover, the practice among synagogues can be bet- ter understood in light of the practice within the Greek cities and associations. Att ention to this evidence for associations provides a new vantage point on the mothers and fathers of the synagogues, including honorifi c and functional dimensions associated with parental designations.

Parental Terminology in Judean Synagogues

It is somewhat surprising that scholars who focus on Judean uses of the titles “mother of the synagogue” and “father of the synagogue” do not give suffi cient att ention to non- Judean instances within associations or within the Greek cities generally.4 Th is may be due, in part, to the notion that, as Lee I. Levine puts it, “the term “father” as a title of honour and respect has deep roots in ancient Judaism,” which is indeed true in certain respects.5 For instance, there are hints that some groups in Judea, such as the Dead Sea community, may have used parental titles for those in positions of authority.6 Yet instead of also exploring Greco-Roman contexts, the focus of debate with regard to synagogues oft en pertains

2. Poland 1909, 371–72; cf. Foucart 1873, 242; Liebenam 1890, 218 n. 2; Waltzing 1895–1900, 3.446–49. For recent studies that deal with these titles in the Roman collegia of the West, see, for instance, Perry 1999, 178–92; Liu 2004, 320–21. 3. See Richardson 1996, 90–109; Richardson 2004, 111–34, 187–224; Baumgarten 1998, 93–111; Runesson 2001. Cf. Harland 2003a, 177–264. 4. E.g., Leon 1995 [1960], 186–88; Hengel 1966, 176–81; Brooten 1982, 57–72; Lassen 1992, 257– 61; Levine 2000, 404. Do, however, see G. H. R. Horsley’s comments in NewDocs IV 127, p. 260. Cf. Noy 1993–95, 77–78. 5. Levine 2000, 404; cf. Noy 1993–95, 77. 6. See the Damascus Document’s references to “mothers” and “fathers” (4Q270 7 I 13–15, as interpreted by Crawford 2003, 177–91 and Bernstein 2004). 84 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians to the internal question of whether the titles were honorifi c or functional in terms of real- life leadership, particularly with respect to women’s leadership. Bernadett e J. Brooten’s and Levine’s arguments for the probable functional nature of at least some of these positions is a corrective to the standard claim of mere honorifi cs.7 Still, these same scholars do not fully explore the evidence for associations in their brief discussion of non-Judean parallels, evidence that may help to resolve issues in the debate.8 I argue that we can make bett er sense of this Judean practice within the broader framework of parental metaphors in the Greco-Roman world, particularly in connection with cities, cults, and associations of the Greek East.9 Furthermore, in some ways the scholarly debate concerning the Judean cases, which sometimes involves opposing options of honorifi c title or functional leadership, is problematic. I argue that addressing leaders or benefactors as “mother,” “father,” or “papa,” as well as “daughter” or “son,” were somewhat usual ways of expressing honour, gratitude, belonging, or even aff ection within a variety of contexts. In some cases, it seems that such titles could be used of external benefactors who were not, in fact, members of the group in question. Yet in many others involving associations, parental metaphors were used to refer to members or leaders who apparently served some functional or active role within the group. Furthermore, epigraphic evidence for fi ctiveparental language has a broader signifi - cance concerning the relation or assimilation of Judean gatherings to Greco-Roman civic life—culturally, institutionally, and socially. Although dealing primarily with the position of “leader of the synagogue” (ἀρχισυνάγωγος), Tessa Rajak and David Noy’s comments regarding the ways in which certain Judean groups refl ect and interact with surrounding society, I would suggest, also ring true in connection with the assimilation of parental designations in the synagogue:

Th e echoing of the city’s status system within the Jewish group represents at the very least an external acceptance within the group of civic political values. Th ese echoes would necessarily be both the result and the facilitator of interaction. Th e result of redefi ning the archisynagogate in terms of a sound understanding of Greek civic titles, is thus to conclude that it belonged in an outward-looking type of community, which did not see fi t to run its aff airs in isolation, even if it might parade its cultural distinctiveness in chosen ways.10

A brief outline of our epigraphic evidence for parental metaphors among Judean synagogues is in order before turning to the Greek civic context and associations. Judean uses of the titles “mother of the synagogue” or “father of the synagogue” are found at several locales, and many of these cases occur in Greek inscriptions. What is likely among the earliest att ested instances of such parental terminology in a Judean context comes from

7. Brooten 1982, 57–72; Levine 2000, 404–6. 8. Brooten 1982, 71. Levine (2000, 404) devotes one passing sentence to the Greco-Roman material despite several pages of discussing the Judean cases. 9. Noy (1993–95, 77–78) makes a similar point, though in brief. 10. Rajak and Noy 1993, 89. “Mothers” and “Fathers” in Associations and Synagogues 85 Stobi in Macedonia, dating to the late second or early third century.11 Th ere a Judean man named Claudius Tiberius Polycharmos donated portions of the lower level of his home to the “holy place” in fulfi llment of a vow, including banqueting facilities (a triclinium). In the process, he refers to himself as “father of the synagogue at Stobi who lived my whole life according to Judean customs” (IJO I Mac 1 = CIJ 694, lines 4–9). Th e simplifi ed designation “Polycharmos, the father” is repeated in the fresco fl oors of the building, which were also donated in fulfi llment of a vow.12 Levine rightly questions the assumption that all cases are merely honorifi c, suggesting that the Stobi inscription in particular “conveys the impres- sion that this individual played a crucial and pivotal role in synagogue aff airs generally.”13 Most known references to fathers and mothers of the synagogue involve Greek epitaphs from catacombs in the city of Rome.14 Th ese inscriptions have not been precisely dated, and recent suggestions range from the late second to the fourth century. At Rome the title “father of the synagogue” occurs in at least eight inscriptions, all of them Greek, which suggests that these were Judeans originally from the eastern diaspora.15 Eastern origins seem even clearer in at least one of these cases, involving the “father of the synagogue of Elaia” (IEurJud II 576; cf. II 406). It seems likely that this synagogue was founded by Judean sett lers originally from a city called Elaia in Asia Minor (either west of Nikomedia or south of Pergamon).16 Th ere are at least two (possibly three) cases of the corresponding “mother of the synagogue” at Rome, one (possibly two) in Greek and one in Latin.17 Th e less fragmentary one reads as follows: “Here lies . . . ia Marcella, mother of the synagogue of the Augustesians. May (she?) be remembered (?). In peace her sleep” (IEurJud II 542).18 In light of the Greek evidence discussed further below, it would be problematic to argue, as does Eva Maria Lassen,19 that Judean practice at Rome necessarily refl ects specif- ically Roman (rather than Greek or Greco-Roman) infl uence, since our earliest examples are in Greek and the majority continue to be so. Added to this is the fact that the titles “mother” and “father” are att ested in many other Greek inscriptions involving civic bodies and unoffi cial associations in the Greek part of the empire at an early period, about which Lassen seems unaware. Conversely, parental titles are not well att ested in Latin-speaking

11. For the second-century dating, see W. Poehlman 1981, 235–47 (refuting Hengel 1966, 145– 83). Cf. White 1997, 355; Noy, Panayotov, and Bloedhorn 2004, 56–71. 12. IJO I Mac 3–4. Wiseman and Mano-Zissi 1971, 408; cf. White 1997, 355 n. 123. 13. Levine 2000, 405. 14. Cf. Leon 1995 [1960], 186–88; Levine 2000, 405–6. 15. “Father of the synagogue’: IEurJud II 209 (= CIJ 93), 288 (= 88), 540 (= 494), 544 (= 508), 560 (= 319), 576 (= 509), 578 (= 510), 584 (= 537). Also to be noted are two third-century cases of “father of the synagogue” (one in Latin and the other in Greek) from Numidia and Mauretania in Africa. See le Bohec 1981, 192 (no. 74), 194 (no. 79). 16. Cf. IEurJud I 18 = CIJ 533 (near Ostia). L. Michael White 1998b (chapter about Ostia) conjec- tures a reconstruction of this inscription which refers to the “father [and patron of the collegium].” 17. ‘Mother of the synagogue’: IEurJud II 251 (= CIJ 166), 542 (= 496). For the Latin mater synagogorum, see IEurJud II 577 (= 523). It is worth noting a Latin inscription from Brescia which mentions a “mother of the synagogue” (matri synagogae; IEurJud I 5; fourth century or earlier). 18. Trans. Noy (IEurJud II 542)1995, 425. 19. Lassen 1992, 257–61. 86 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians cities, and they only begin to appear in connection with collegia by the mid-second century, as I discuss below. Other clear cases from the Greek East demonstrate continued use of this terminology within Judean circles. Th ere is a papyrus from Egypt (dating 291 ce) that refers to a city councillor from Ono in Roman Palestine, who is also identifi ed as a “father of the synagogue” (CPJ III 473).20 Two other examples, in this case from Greek cities, happen to date to the fourth century. At Mantineia in Greece there was a “father of the people (λαοῦ) for life” who provided a forecourt for the synagogue building (IJO I Ach54 = CIJ 720). Th ere was an “elder” (πρεσβυτέρος) and “father of the association” (τοῦ στέμμα|τος) in Smyrna, who made a donation for the interior decoration of the Judean meeting place (IJO II 41 = ISmyrna 844a = CIJ 739).21 In later centuries, the titles “father” and “mother” (with no further clarifi cation or reference to “the synagogue”) became somewhat standard in relation to important fi gures within Judean circles, at least at Venosa in Apulia (Italy) in the fi hft and sixth centuries.22 However, in some instances, it is uncertain as to whether the title (att ested in both Latin and Greek) pertains to the person’s relation to the synagogue specifi cally or to the civic community more broadly, as in the case of “Auxaneios, father and patron of the city” (IEurJud I 115 = CIJ 619c; cf. IEurJud I 116). It is to the broader civic context and to associations within that framework that I now turn.

Parental Metaphors in Greek Cities and Associations

Mothers, Fathers, Daughters, and Sons

Th e existence of “mothers” or “fathers” of the Roman collegia (beginning in the mid-second century) and the practice among some associations in the West of calling leaders “father” (pater), especially among initiates in Mithraic mysteries, has gained some att ention.23 Most recently, Emily Hemelrijk (2008) has collected together and discussed all (twenty-six) known cases of “mothers” of the collegia in Italy and the Latin provinces (beginning in the mid-second century), but she does not deal with the Greek East. Poland and others point to such Roman instances and too readily dismiss examples in Greek as “late,” as under western infl uence, and as relatively insignifi cant for understanding association life in the eastern part of the empire.24 As a result, they fail to further explore the evidence for such familial terminology, including its relation to the Greek cities generally. Despite the vagaries of

20. Cf. Levine 2000, 404. 21. On the use of στέμμα for a group or association, see the inscriptions from Philippi published by Chapouthier 1924, 287–303, esp. 287–92. Cf. CIG 3995b (Iconium); MAMA X 152 (Appia). 22. Cf. IEurJud I 56 (= CIJ 612), 61 (= 599), 62 (= 590), 86 (= 611), 87 (= 613), 90 (= 614), 114 (= 619b), 115 (= 619c), 116 (= 619d). 23. On the titles “father” and “mother” in collegia in the West (and in Latin inscriptions of the East) see Waltzing 1895–1900, 1.446–49, 4.369–70, 372–73 and, more recently, Perry 1999, 178–192, Liu 2004, 320–21, and Hemelrijk 2008 (who lists all cases). 24. Poland 1909, 371–72; cf. Wilcken 1932, 257–59. “Mothers” and “Fathers” in Associations and Synagogues 87 archeological fi nds and the obvious diffi culties in precisely dating many inscriptions, it is important to note that the earliest datable case of parental titles in collegia (in Latin) dates to 153 ce, with the majority dating considerably later. On the other hand, there are cases in Greek from at least the second century bce for Greek cities and from the early fi rst century ce for associations specifi cally. ereTh is, in fact, strong evidence pointing to the importance of such parental metaphors in the Greek cities and in local associations within these cities. In contrast, Latin parental titles used in civic (as opposed to imperial)25 contexts in the West and East, such as pater civitatis, were a relatively late development (fi fth century), in this case a later designation for the offi ce of curator civitatis.26 Moreover, this evidence suggests the likelihood that (if the practice did not develop independently in West and East) the initial direction of infl uence in the use of parental titles was from the Greek world to the Roman. Within the realm of honours in the Greek East and Asia Minor in particular, it was not unusual for civic bodies and other organizations to express honour for, or positive relations with, a benefactor or functionary by referring to him or her as “father” (πατήρ) “mother” (μήτηρ), “son” (υἱός), “daughter” (θυγάτηρ), “foster-father” (τροφεύς), or “foster- child” (τρόφιμος). Evidence for this usage begins as early as the second century bce (as at Teos involving “fathers”) and continues with numerous instances in the fi rst, second, and third centuries of our era (see the partial list in the accompanying table).27 Th us, at Selge in Pisidia (just west of the Cilicia label on the map) there was a “son of the city” (polis) among the dedicators of a statue of Athena in the late fi rst or second century ISelge( 2); a “mother of the city” who is an important benefactor and also priestess of Tyche in the second or third century (ISelge 17); and a “daughter of the city” who is also a priestess of Tyche and Ares in the late third (ISelge 20). As Louis Robert, Riet van Bremen, and others note, these familial analogies evoke images of prominent persons raising the citizens as though they were their own children, or envision civic bodies and groups adopting as sons and daughters those who demonstrate strong feelings of goodwill (εὔνοια) or aff ection (φιλία) towards the “fatherland” (φιλόπατρις).28 Van Bremen, who collects together and discusses the cases of “mothers” and “daughters” specifi cally, notes that themale equivalents of these titles considerably outnumber the female.29 Nonetheless, she considers these titles in relation to other evidence for limited participation by women within civic life in the Greek East beginning in the fi rst century: “elite women were integrated into civic life not only through offi ce- holding and as liturgists, but on an ideological level too, as members of their families, and

25. “Father of the fatherland” (pater patriae) was a standardized term for the Roman emperors (cf. Lassen 1997, 112–13), but there is litt le to suggest that the father metaphor was widespread in reference to patrons or leaders in Roman cities of the West in the fi rst century. 26. Th e pater civitatis was in charge of building and renovation projects in some cities. See Roueché 1979, 173–85; Dagron and Feissel 1987, 215–20. 27. Th e inscription from Teos involves the citizens of Abdera honouring the citizens of Teos, “who are fathers of our polis” (SEG 49 [1999], no. 1536; 170–166 bce). 28. Robert 1949, 74–81; Robert 1969, 316–22 (in some cases, an actual adoption may have taken place); Nollé and Schindler 1991, 71; van Bremen 1996, 167–69; Jones 1989. 29. Van Bremen 1996, 68, and her appendix 3, pp. 348–57. 88 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians

Table: Evidence for “daughters,” “sons,” “mothers,” and “fathers” of civic and offi - cial organizations (including the πόλις, δῆμος, γερουσία, and νέοι) (Organized alphabetically by city or region under each title) Daughter SEG 37 (1987), no. 1099bis (Amorion; second-third cent. ce); IGR III 90 (Ankyra; second cent. ce), 191 (Ankyra; mid-second cent. ce); MAMA VIII 455, 514–17a-b (Aphrodisias; second-third cent. ce); IEph 234, 235, 239, 424, 424a, 1601e (late fi rst-early second cent. ce); SEG 36 (1986), no. 1241 (Epiphaneia; third cent. ce); Robert 1969, 319–20 (Herakleia Lynkestis; fi rst-second cent. ce);ICarie 63–64 (Hera kleia Salbake; 60 ce); IGR IV 908 (Kibyra; second cent. ce); IPerge 117–18, 120–21, 122–25 (time of Trajan and Hadrian); ISelge 20 (third cent. ce); SEG 43 (1993), no. 955 (Sagalassos; ca. 120 ce); IG V.1 116, 593 (Sparta; late second and third cent. ce); IStratonikeia 171, 183, 185–87 (late fi rst cent. ce), 142 (fi rst cent. ce), 227 (second cent. ce), 235 (time of Hadrian), 237 (time of Hadrian), 327 (imperial), 707 (time of Hadrian); TAM V 976 (Th yatira; fi rst cent. ce). Son SEG 45 (1995), no. 738 (Beroia, Macedonia; fi rst-second cent. ce); SIG3 813 A and B (Delphi; fi rst cent. ce);IGLAM 53 (Erythrai); SEG 45 (1995), no. 765 (Herakleia Lynkestis, Macedonia; imperial period); BE (1951) 204, no. 236 (Kition); SIG3 804 (Kos; 54 ce); SEG 44 (1994), no. 695 (Kos; fi rst cent. ce); Robert 1969, 309–11 (Lesbos); SIG3 854 (Macedonia); Hepding 1907, 327–29, nos. 59–60 (Pergamon); OGIS 470.10 (Sardians); TAM III 14, 16, 21, 87, 98, 105, 122, 123 (Termessos; second -third cent. ce); SEG 44 (1994), no. 1110 (Panemoteichos; ca. 240–270 ce); IPerge 56 (81–84 ce); SEG 43 (1993), nos. 950 and 952 (Sagalassos; 120 ce); Pouilloux and Dunant 1954–58, no. 238 (fi rst-second cent. ce);IG XII.8 525 (Th asos). Mother IGR III 191 (Ankyra; mid-second cent. ce); MAMA VIII 492b (Aph ro- disias; fi rst cent. ce);IG V.1 499, 587, 589, 597, 608 (Sparta; early third cent. ce); IKilikiaBM I 27 (early third cent. ce); Naour 1977, 265–71, no.1 (Tlos; mid-second cent. ce); SEG 43 (1993), no. 954 (Sagalassos; ca. 120 ce); ISelge 15–17 (early third cent. ce); TAM III 57, 58 (Termessos; early third cent. ce); IG XII.8 388, 389 (Th asos; early third cent. ce). Father Hagel and Tomaschitz 1998, 42 (Antiocheia epi Krago 21) and 130–31 (Iotape 23a); SEG 39 (1989), no. 1055, line 18 (Neapolis; 194 ce); SEG 49 (1999), no. 1536 (Teos; 170–166 bce); TAM III 83 (Termessos; fi rst cent. ce); Pouilloux and Dunant 1954–58, no. 192 (fi rst cent. bce–fi rst cent. ce); IG XII.8 458, 533 (Th asos). Foster-father See Robert 1949, 74–81 (examples from Amastris, Athens, Chersone- sos, Histria, Metropolis, Pericharaxis, Selge, Synnada); cf. Dio of Prusa Or. 48. Foster-child or IErythrai 63 (ca. 240 ce; cf. SEG 39 [1989], no. 1240; Jones 1989, nursling 194–97). “Mothers” and “Fathers” in Associations and Synagogues 89 as such placed in familial and “aff ectionate” relationships with the city and its constituent political bodies.”30 Although the titles were conferred as a way of honouring an infl uential person, in almost all cases the person so honoured also clearly served some functioning role in the cults or institutions of the cities that honoured them. In fact, sometimes it is clear that it is because they made some contributions or provided services as a functionary or leader that they were honoured by being called “mother,” “father,” “daughter,” or “son.” So the distinction between honorary title and functional role can be blurry. On many occasions it is the most important civic bodies, the council (βουλή) and/ or the people (δῆμος), who honour a benefactor and mention such titles. Yet this way of expressing positive relations with benefactors and leaders was quite common among other groups and organizations in the Greek East,31 including gymnastic organizations and unoffi cial associations. Th us organizations of elders (γεραιοί or γερουσία) at Perge, at Eryth- rai, and on Th asos in the fi rst to third centurieseach honoured benefactors as either “son,” “daughter,” or “mother” of the group (IPerge 121; IGLAM 53; IG XII.8 388–89, 525). On several occasions, a gymnastic organization of youths (νέοι) at Pergamon honoured Gaius Julius Maximus—a military offi cial, civic president (πρύτανις), and priest of Apollo— as “their own son” (τὸν ἑαυτῶν υἱόν).”32 Along similar lines, H. W. Pleket reconstructs an inscription from Magnesia on the Maeander River which may refer to a young benefactor as the “son of the friends of the revered ones” (ὑὸς [sic] τῶν φι[λοσ]ε[βάστω]ν), involving an association devoted to the members of the imperial family as gods. 33 In light of this widespread practice in Greek cities and despite scholarly neglect of the subject, then, it is not surprising that similar uses of parental metaphors are found within less offi cial associations of various kinds in eastern parts of the empire. Th e evidence spans Greek-speaking communities across the Mediterranean, especially in the East, and clearly begins as early as the fi rst century ce. Here I approach the materials on a geographical, rather than chronological, basis, clearly indicating dates (when known) along the way. Th ere are several examples of such paternal or maternal terminology from Greece, sometimes in reference to important religious functionaries. In the Piraeus (port city to Athens) there was an organization in honour of Syrian deities and the Great Mother whose leadership included a priest, a priestess, a “horse,” and a “father of the orgeonic synod” (SIG3 1111 = IG III 1280a, esp. line 15; ca. 200–211 ce). Th e “father” is listed alongside these other functional roles without any suggestion that this is merely an honorifi c title. In connection with Syria, it is worth mentioning the “father of the association” (κοίνου) that set up a monument near Berytos (IGR III 1080). Th e membership list of a “company” devoted to Dionysos at Th essalonica in Macedonia (second or third century) includes several functionaries (both men and women), including a chief initiate (ἀρχιμύστης), alongside the “mother of the company” (σπεῖρας), which may also be a functional position (rather than simply honorifi c) in this case SEG( 49 [1999], no. 814).

30. Van Bremen 1996, 169. 31. See, for instance, Cormack 1943, 39–44 (involving a “son” of the provincial assembly of Macedonia) and TAM III 57 (involving a civic tribe). 32. Hepding 1907, 327–29, nos. 59–60. 33. Pleket 1958, 7–8, regarding IMagnMai 119 (late second or third century ce). 90 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Most extant Greek evidence of “fathers” and “mothers” in associations happens to come from Greek cities in the provinces just north of Greece and Asia Minor around the Black Sea. One of the earliest examples of this use of “father” for a benefactor of an association, not known to Poland, dates to about 12–15 ce and refl ects “Asian” and Greek (not western) infl uence in important respects. Th is inscription from Callatis (in Th racia) involves the “society members” (θιασείται) passing a decree in honour of Ariston, who is called “father,” as well as “benefactor” of the society and founder of the city (πατρὸς ἐὼν εὐεργέτα καὶ κτίστα τᾶς πό| λιος καὶ φιλοτείμου τοῦ θιάσου).34 Th e members of this association devoted to Dionysos crown Ariston for his benefactions and virtues in his relations with the citizens of the city and for his goodwill and love of honour toward the “society” during the time of “the foreign Dionysia” (τῶν ξενικῶν Διονυσίων; line 40). Th is is very likely among the instances of Dionysiac associations founded by Greek-speaking immigrants from Asia Minor who sett led in the cities of Th racia and the Danube (sometimes explicitly calling themselves an association “of Asians”), as M. P. Nilsson also observes.35 So we should beware of att ributing instances of “father” language within associations to western infl uence and of assuming that such usage was a late development. Another later instance from this region involves a “company” (σπεῖρα) of Dionysos worshipers in nearby Histria. Here the group is also designated as “those gathered around” (οἱ περὶ) their “father,” Achilleus son of Achillas, their priest, and their hierophant in a way that suggests that all three were also members with functional roles within the group (IGLSkythia I 99; 218–222 ce).36 Th e same man was also the “father” of what seems to be a diff erent group called the “hymn-singing elders (ὑμνῳδοὶ πρεσβύτε|ροι) gathered around the great god Dionysos” (IGLSkythia I 100, lines 4–5, 10–11). If this was not enough, he was also the “father” of a third association, this one devoted to the Great Mother at Tomis. Th ere he is listed between a priest and a chief tree-bearer (ἀρχιδενδροφόρος), both fi gures with functional roles in cultic activities of the group (IGLSkythia II 83). I return to further instances of such plural affi liations and identities in chapter 7. Th e use of parental language for benefactors and leaders is not limited to Dionysiac groups, then. A board of temple-wardens (νεωκόροι) devoted to Saviour Asklepios in Pauta- lia, Th racia (southwest of Serdica), refers to the leader of the group simply as “the father.”37 At Serdica in Th racia, an all-female “sacred association” (δοῦμος) of initiates of the Great Mother (Cybele) calls one of its prominent members, likely a leader, “mother of the tree- bearers” (CCCA VI 342; ca. 200 ce).38 Similarly, a mixed association of tree-bearers associated with this goddess at Tomis includes among its leaders both a “mother” and a “father”

34. IGLSkythia III 44 = Sauciuc-Sâveanu 1924, 139–144, no. 2, lines 5–6 (also see Avram 2002, 69–80). 35. See Edson 1948, 154–58; Nilsson 1957, 50–55; Harland 2003a, 36. Another inscription from Callatis likewise involves a group of “society members” and mentions that one member, at least, was from Ephesos (IGLSkythia III 35 = Sauciuc-Sâveanu 1924, 126–39, no. 1, line 22). For other associations of “Asians,” see BE (1952) 160–61, no. 100 (Dionysopolis); IGBulg 480 (Montana); IPerinthos 56 = IGR I 787 (196–198 ce); IGLSkythia I 99, 199 (Histria, Moesia); IGBulg 1517 (Cillae, Th racia; 241–244 ce); IG X.2 309, 480 and Edson 1948, 154–58, no. 1. 36. Cf. IKilikiaBM I 34; TAM III 910; IPontEux IV 207–212. 37. Kalinka 1906, 157–58, no. 177. 38. Also published, with discussion, in Tacheva-Hitova 1983, 116–19, no. 101. “Mothers” and “Fathers” in Associations and Synagogues 91 (namely, the Achilleus mentioned above).39 Both western and “Asian” (Phrygian-Greek) elements can be seen in these groups devoted to the Great Mother as, on the one hand, they are clearly based on the Romanized version of the cult of the Magna Mater focused on the March festival. On the other hand, some of these same groups use distinctively Phrygian– Greek terminology for associations, especially “sacred δοῦμος.”40 It is worth mentioning that instances of the titles mater and pater (in Latin) in the worship of Cybele from the city of Rome itself are all signifi cantly later (primarily from the late fourth century and on).41 As I mentioned in the previous chapter, there are numerous examples of “father of the synod” in associations of the Bosporus region in the fi rst centuries. eTh case of Panticapaion, among the oldest of the Greek sett lements of the region, provides us with at least thirty-three extant Greek inscriptions that involve associations of society members or synod members (θιασῖται, συνοδεῖται; all but two are epitaphs).42 In at least eight of these inscriptions, an association happens to mention that one of its leaders was known as the “father of the synod” or simply “father,” alongside other standard functionaries such as the priest (ἱερεύς), the “gathering leader” (συναγωγός), the “lover-of-what-is-good” (φιλάγαθος), and others.43 Th e consistency of the appearance of the “father” position in various groups and the inclusion of the “fathers” alongside others who are clearly functionaries who perform duties are suggestive of an active leadership role for the fathers here, rather than mere honorifi cs. Other fi ctivefamily language, including the use of “brothers” for members, sometimes accompanies the use of father for leaders in these groups of the Bosporus, as I discussed in the previous chapter. Th e use of parental language is also att ested for associations in Egypt or in groups of Greek-speaking immigrants from Egypt elsewhere in the empire. Some of these involve devotees of gods with mysteries. One inscription from Rome involves a group founded by Greek-speaking immigrants from Alexandria devoted to Sarapis (IGUR 77 = SIRIS 384; 146 ce). Th is “sacred company (τάξις) of the Paianistai” devoted to “Zeus Helios, the great Sarapis, and the revered (σέβαστοι) gods” honours Embe, who is called both “prophet” and “father of the company.” Th e use of the term prophet here strongly suggests an active role for this “father” within the group. Turning to Egypt proper, in a partially damaged third-century ce papyrus from Oxy- rhynchos, a man pronounces an oath pertaining to initiation into mysteries, making mention of both the leader of the group, “father Sarapion,” and his fellow-initiates, the “brothers,” perhaps “mystical brothers” as I discussed in the previous chapter. In connection with mysteries, it is worth mentioning Apuleius’s novel, in which the character Lucius, upon initiation in the mysteries of Isis (set at Cenchreae in Greece), refers to the priest as his “parent”

39. IGLSkythia II 83 = IGR I 614 = Tacheva-Hitova 1983, 93–95, no. 48, lines 14 and 16 (200–201 ce). Cf. Tacheva-Hitova 1983, 77–78, no. 13 (late second cent. ce); CCCA VI 454; (late second cent. or early third cent. ce). 40. For δοῦμος as a group self-designation, see TAM V 179, 449, 470a, 483a, 536 (Saitt ai and vicinity); Buresch 1898, 58–62; SEG 42 (1992), no. 625 (Th essalonica); Neumann 1999, 345–53; Neu- mann 2002. 41. See CCCA III 233–36, 241b–43, 246, 263, 283–84, 334. 42. See CIRB 75–108; cf. Ustinova 1999, 196–97. 43. CIRB 77 (second-third cent. ce), 96 (second cent. ce), 98 (214 ce), 99 (221 ce), 100, 103 (third cent. ce), 104 (third cent. ce), 105 (third cent. ce). 92 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians (parens).44 Similarly, worshipers of the Syrian Ba‘al as Jupiter Dolichenus at Rome (on the Aventine) refl ect such terminology, with priests titled “father of the candidates” (pater candi- datorum) and fellow initiates calling one another “brothers” (fr atres) in the second and third centuries.45 Also quite well known are the associations of soldiers devoted to Mithras in the second and following centuries, in which the seventh stage of initiation was “father” (pater) or “father of the mysteries” (pater sacrorum).46 It is important to note, however, that with Jupi- ter Dolichenus and Mithras we are indeed witnessing largely Roman phenomena, and almost all instances of fi ctive familial terminology are in Latin for these two gods.

“Papa” as a Functionary

Another metaphorical use of parental or nurturing language in associations is a more intimate form of address that eventually also found a place within Christianity (“papa” = pope). Th e more colloquial and aff ectionate term “papa” or “daddy” (πάππας/ἄππας in Greek and variants) was used of religious functionaries within some associations, particularly in Asia Minor, as Karl Buresch noted long ago.47 In the early second century, a group of initiates devoted to Dionysos met in a “sacred house” in the vicinity of Magnesia on the Maeander River. Th is group included in its membership two men called “papa” (ἄππας) or foster-father of Dionysos (the role oft en taken on by Silenos in mythology), alongside a chief initiate, priestess, nurse (ὐπότροφος), and hierophant, a revealer of the sacred objects (IMagnMai 117). Th e photo in fi gure 10 pictures Dionysos as a baby being cared for by the fatherly Silenos. Other members of the group may well have addressed these men using this aff ective term. A second-century inscription from a village north of Hierapolis in Phrygia involves the villagers of Th iounta honouring a “brotherhood,” φράτρα. Th is was a common, indigenous term for a cultic association in Phrygia, Lydia, and Mysia (not to be confused with civic organizations called φρατρία).48 Within this group at Th iounta, one of the functionaries apparently held the title of “papa.”49 Similarly, a grave from the vicinity of Gölde, near Sait- tai, mentions “Apollonios the friend and Julianos the papa” (line 29) among those who honour the young deceased priest, Lucius. Th ese two persons appear towards the end of a

44. Met. 11.25; cf. 11.21. Also see the commentary by Griffi ths 1975, 278, 292. 45. Cf. Hö rig und Schwertheim 1987, nos. 274, 373, 375, 376, 381 (second-third cent. ce). Cf. Bömer, 1981 [1958–1963], 176–78; Ebel 2004, 205–7. 46. Cf. CIL III 3384, 3415, 3959, 4041; CIMRM 623–24; Tertullian Apol. 8. 47. Buresch 1898, 130–31. 48. For examples of this type of association (devoted to gods such as Men, the Great Mother, and Asklepios), see IPhrygR 506 (Akmoneia); Pleket 1970, 61–74, no. 4 (Almoura village near Teira); IPhrygR 64 (town near Hierapolis); Pleket 1958, no. 4 (Ilion; fi rst cent. ce);TAM V 762, 806, and 1148 (towns near Th yatira); IGLAM 1724d (town near Kyme); TAM V 451 and 470a (Maionia near Saitt ai; 28–29 ce and 96 ce); IGR IV 548 (Orkistos); MAMA IV 230 (Tymandos); Artemidoros, Oneirokritika 4.44; 5.82. Cf. PLond 2710 = Roberts, Skeat, and Nock 1936, lines 14–15 (Egypt; fi rst cent. bce). Cf. Seyfarth 1955. 49. Buresch (1898, 130–131) convincingly challenges Ramsay’s view that this is a proper name (Appas) and argues that this is far more likely the title of a cultic functionary in this case. Both Robert (1978, 494) and Josef Keil (in TAM V) agree with Buresch. “Mothers” and “Fathers” in Associations and Synagogues 93

Figure 10. Statue of Silenos caring for the baby Dionysos, now in the Louvre list and not along with actual family members and close relations that appear in the opening lines. Th is suggests the possibility of the deceased’s membership in an association of “friends” (φίλοι) headed by a “papa,” as Buresch also points out (TAM V 432; 214/215 ce). Other instances of “papa” do not necessarily involve unoffi cial associations, yet further confi rm the use of the term for functionaries in cultic contexts. A second or third century inscription from Tarsus in Cilicia (IGR III 883) involves a professional association (devoted to Demeter) that honours a Roman consul, describing him as director of public works, Ciliciarch, gymnasium-leader, and also “papa” (παπειν). Louis Robert shows that the latt er term refers to an “indigenous priestly title.”50 In light of such evidence, D. Feissel seems right in arguing that a fi rst-century inscription from Dorla in southern Lykaonia (north of Lamos) that mentions “Philtatos, the most blessed papa,” likely refers to a Greco- Roman cultic functionary, not a Christian priest, as Gertrud Laminger-Pascher too readily assumes.51

50. Robert 1978, 492–94, no. 510; cf. Robert 1949, 197–205; Robert 1987, 50–51. 51. Laminger-Pascher 1992, no. 408. If this is a Christian inscription, it would be among the earliest examples of such. For Feissel’s view, which corrects Laminger-Pascher, see BE (1993) 771 or, briefl y,SEG 42 (1992), no. 1247. 94 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians What is indeed a clear Christian case of the use of “papa” for the leader of a congregation comes from a lett er that likely dates to sometime between 264 and 282 ce (PAmherst I 3a, with photo in vol. II, plate 25).52 In it, a certain Christian merchant, then at Rome, writes to his fellow-workers at Arsinoe in the Fayum region of Egypt, who are termed “brothers.” He writes to these fellow-workers and fellow-Christians concerning their need to make payment for the shipment of goods either to Primitinos (the shipper) or by way of Maximos, the “papa” (πάπας) of the congregation at Alexandria.53 We are witnessing similar uses of fi ctive kinship to express relationships or hierarchies within associations.

The Meanings of Parental Metaphors

In order to understand the potential meanings of parental metaphors, it is important to note the common juxtaposition of parental (primarily paternal) responsibilities and leadership in the civic sett ing within literature of the classical, Hellenistic, and Roman periods.54 When authors from Aristotle on discuss the building blocks of society, they stress the household as the basic unit of society, suggesting that good management of the household would mean good management of the city (polis). And when they discuss household management, the father’s rule over the household is oft en taken as an analogy for leadership in society more broadly. Th e household is, in many ways, a microcosm of society or, as expressed by Philo of Alexandria, “a house is a city compressed into small dimensions, and household management may be called a kind of state management” (Jos. 38). So comparisons worked both ways. Actual parental leadership was a model for leadership and benefi - cence in the civic sett ing and, conversely, leadership or benefaction in civic contexts and associations could be expressed in terms of parental activity. Oft en, inscriptions give us only momentary glimpses of social life, so it is diffi cult to assess the meanings that would be att ached to the metaphorical use of parental language in associations and synagogues, as we also saw in the previous chapter regarding sibling language.55 Mere passing mention of a “mother” or “father” of a group on an inscription tells us litt le about how these fi gures were viewed within the group (in cases where they were members and leaders), or about what social relations and obligations accompanied the use of such fi ctive familial terminology.Still, something can be said about the potential meanings of parental metaphors within associations and synagogues in light of what we know about “family values” from fi rst- and econd-centurys literary sources, such as Plu- tarch, Hierocles, and Philo of Alexandria. First of all, the use of fi ctive parental terms is consistently related to issues of honour and hierarchy. We have seen that for Greek philosophers such as Plutarch there is a hierarchy of honour that characterizes familial relations. Brothers come before friends, but nature and law “have assigned to parents, aft er gods, fi rst and greatest honor,” and “there is

52. For text, translation, and discussion, see Deissmann 1995 [1927], 205–13. 53. On the Christian use of “papa,” see Deissmann 1995 [1927], 216–21, esp. p. 219 note 2. 54. On household management see, for instance, Balch 1981. 55. For a discussion of family metaphors generally in the Roman West, see Lassen 1997, 103– 20. “Mothers” and “Fathers” in Associations and Synagogues 95 nothing which men do that is more acceptable to gods than with goodwill and zeal to repay favours to those who bore them up” (De fr at. amor. 479F).56 Hierocles also speaks of parents as “our greatest benefactors, supplying us with the most important things” (Hierocles On Duties 4.25.53).57 Similarly, the Hellenistic-Judean philosopher Philo outlines the nature of the parent–child relation, grouping the role of parent with other socially superior positions, including the benefactor: “Now parents are assigned a place in the higher of these two orders, for they are seniors and instructors and benefactors and rulers and masters; sons and daughters are placed in the lower order, for they are juniors and learners and recipients of benefi ts andsubjects and servants” (Spec. leg. 2.226–27).58 In choosing to call a benefactor or leader of the group a mother or father, then, members of an association, as metaphorical sons or daughters, were putt ing that fi gure on a par with the most honoured persons in society, second only to the gods (or God) from this sort of perspective. Asso- ciation members were also to some extent reaffi rming their own lower position in social hierarchies, along with their piety and gratitude to those higher in the social system.59 Second, the use of parental metaphors could also be associated with aff ection, goodwill, and protection. Th is would have implications for a sense of belonging within the group in cases where a “mother” or “father” was a member or leader. In his treatise On Aff ection for Off spring, for instance, Plutarch stresses how parents, by nature, show great aff ection (φιλοστοργία) for children, protecting and caring for the well-being of their off - spring as a hen cares for its brood.60 Conversely, the expectation was that children would reciprocate or “repay benefi cence” by providing or caring for their parents, at least in older age (cf. Hierocles On Duties 4.25.53). Th is would have metaphorical signifi cance for those who were “adopted” as “son” or “daughter” with a city or group acting as parent. On a larger scale, the vocabulary of goodwill and aff ection which Plutarch and others associate with family relations was also very common within the system of benefaction and honours that characterized social relations in the cities of the Greco-Roman world, and parental metaphors are part of this picture.

Conclusion

Greek inscriptions point to the relative importance of fi ctive parental and familial language in cities of the Greek East at the beginning of the common era. Th is is also the case with associations specifi cally. If there was culturalinfl uence at work between East and West, it seems that, initially, the early Greek practice impacted later Roman developments, not the other way around. In many respects, this is an important framework for understanding the adoption, continued use, and contemporary interpretation of the titles “mother of the

56. Cf. Hierocles On Duties 4.25.53. 57. Trans. Malherbe 1986, 91–93. 58. Cf. Philo Dec. 165–67; Balch 1981, 52–56. 59. Cf. Hierocles On Duties 4.25.53. 60. On the epigraphic use of φιλοστοργία (“aff ection” or “heartfelt love,” as G. H. R. Horsley puts it) among family members and in relation to benefactors see Robert 1965, 38–42 and Horsley in NewDocs II 80, III 11, and IV 33. 96 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians synagogue” and “father of the synagogue” within Greek-speaking Judean diaspora contexts. Because of the happenstance nature of archeological materials, such titles begin to appear in the surviving Judean epigraphic record only in the second century in Macedonia. In cases where we do possess enough information, it seems that the titles “father” and “mother” could be used in reference to those who actually belonged to the association in question and who served some leadership role there. It is noteworthy that Hemelrijk argues a similar point regarding the active membership and functional roles of “mothers” of the collegia in Italy and Latin-speaking provinces.61 So although in the Judean cases we oft en lack the sort of information necessary to show that such fi gures served functional roles, the analogy of the associations suggests that this would be highly likely in at least some instances. Furthermore, the fact that parental titles in associations could be used of both function and honour or, perhaps bett er stated, as a way of honouring those who provided their services or performed duties, suggests that the functionary versus honorary debate concerning the fathers and mothers of the synagogues may be somewhat misguided.62 In many cases, the line between the benefactor or patron and the functionary could be blurry, even non-existent. In recent years, it has also been amply noted that leadership in many unoffi cial sett ings, including associations, synagogues, and congregations, for instance, naturally emerged out of benefaction. Benefactors that could aff ord to make material contributions (such as a meeting place) could naturally take on functional leadership roles within a given group or association.63 Th ese observations notwithstanding the fact that in a few cases parental titles may have been used of more remote benefactors who were not ever members or leaders of the group in question. Nonetheless, we should not assume that this was the norm. Th e use of parental metaphors or titles as means of identifi cation among both associations and Judean synagogues places these groups solidly within the social, cultural, and civic landscape of the Greek-speaking Mediterranean. Both share this means of expressing honour, hierarchy, positive relation, and belonging within small-group sett ings. Th is practice can be understood as one among the ways in which certain Judean groups refl ected their social milieu and signaled, whether intentionally or not, their belonging within a broader cultural context. In the next chapter, we will examine other ways in which such ethnic associations such as the Judeans could both fi nd a home within a society of sett lement and continue to identify themselves with the cultural practices of the homeland.

61. Hemelrijk 2008, 140–41. 62. Similar debates take place in connection with parental titles in collegia of the West (see, most recently, Perry 1999, 178–92, and Liu 2004, 320–21). Perry convincingly argues that, in many cases, the use of familial terminology is internal to the group and “indicates something more than a formal patron-client relationship” (Perry 1999, 189). Also see Hemelrijk 2008, who emphasizes the internal participation of “mothers” of the collegia. 63. Cf. White 1997; Rajak and Noy 1993, 75–93; Harland 2003a, 31–33. Part 3

Identity and Acculturation among Judeans and Other Ethnic Associations

Other Diasporas

Immigrants, Ethnic Identities, and Acculturation

Introduction

Judeans (Jews) are by far the most studied of immigrants or resett led ethnic groups in the ancient Mediterranean world. Yet there is growing recognition among scholars that gatherings of Judeans abroad should be placed within the framework of other, less-studied immigrant or cultural minority groups—groups that are also worthy of study in their own rights. Th us Martin Goodman opens a recent anthology by posing the question: How different were Judeans from other peoples in the Greco-Roman world? He briefl y posits that “the oddities of the Jews . . . were no greater than that of the many other distinctive ethnic groups, such as Idumaeans, Celts, or Numidians.”1 Jack Lightstone’s overview of diaspora Judaism assumes that we should approach Judeans as just one among many ethnic groups.2 Th e title of Shaye J. D. Cohen and Ernest Frerichs’s edited volume, Diasporas in Antiquity (1993), is promising but does not fully deliver in terms of the study of migrant diasporas beyond that of the Judeans. Moreover, Goodman and others correctly point to the importance of comparative studies for our understanding of the identities of individual Judeans and Judean groups abroad. Yet research into other ethnically based associations remains to be done before the comparative enterprise can proceed with success. Our inscriptional evidence for Judeans abroad, most recently gathered in collections such as Jewish Inscriptions of Western Europe (3 volumes), Jewish Inscriptions of Graeco-Roman Egypt, and Inscriptiones Judaicae Orientis (3 volumes), needs to be placed, in the long run, alongside our materials for other immigrants and associations.3 Moreover, few scholars analyze evidence for other associations of persons from a

1. Goodman 1998, 4. 2. Lightstone 2007, ch. 25. 3. Horbury and Noy 1992; Noy 1993–95; Noy, Panayotov, and Bloedhorn 2004; Noy and Bloed- horn 2004.

99 100 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians common geographical origin, associations whose existence depended on a shared sense of ethnic identity. Some exceptions to this include George La Piana’s rather early work of 1927 on “foreigners” in the city of Rome itself, which touches on both Judeans and associations.4 Some decades later, L. Ruggini’s study (1959) of immigrants from the East in Italy placed Judeans within a comparative perspective, but the article was not concerned with social or cultural questions.5 More recently, David Noy’s excellent study (2000) delves more fully into the world of immigrants in the city of Rome specifi cally, and he usefully employs insights from the social sciences to analyze the evidence, particularly regarding individual immigrants. While these studies provide insights into life among immigrants, especially individuals, in Italy, there still remains much work to do on ethnic associations in other parts of the ancient Mediterranean with special att ention to issues of acculturation and ethnic identities. Despite the vagaries of epigraphic evidence and the scatt ered nature of our materials both geographically and chronologically, the social historian can nonetheless begin to observe certain recurring aspects of life among immigrant associations and draw some tentative conclusions regarding processes of acculturation in the world of Judeans and Christians. Alongside the need for group-focussed studies beyond Italy is a particular problem regarding how some scholars employ issues of migration and the formation of associations within broader theories about the Hellenistic and Roman ages. Until recently, it was quite common for certain scholars to speak of these eras as periods of social, political, and cultural decline, along with the decline of the polis, or Greek city-state. Such theories of decline among infl uential scholars, such as M. P. Nilsson and E. R. Dodds, were sometimes accompanied by portraits of a general atmosphere of widespread rootlessness among populations. Th is picture of rootless populations was illustrated by, among other things, increases in migration and the supposed negative experiences of immigrants specifi cally. 6 To provide a recent example, Robert Turcan speaks of a “troubled and drift ing world” in which “uprooted people,” particularly immigrants, lived “on the fringes of a disintegrating world” in both the Hellenistic and Roman eras.7 Within this framework, Turcan and others oversimplify the picture of associations, including but not limited to ethnically based associations. Such scholars speak of associations primarily as compensatory phenomena which aimed to amelioriate this supposed situation of widespread detachment.8 Th is theory has rightly been criticized.9 Peter Brown aptly observes that “many modern accounts of religious evolution of the Roman world place great emphasis on the malaise of life in great cities in Hellenistic and Roman times. Yet the loneliness of the great city and the rapid deculturation of immigrants from traditionalist areas are modern ills: they should not be overworked as explanatory devices for the society we are studying. We can be far from certain that [as Dodds asserts] “such loneliness must have been felt by millions. . . .”’10

4. La Piana 1927, 183–403. 5. Ruggini 1959, 186–308. 6. See the more extensive discussion of scholarship in Harland 2006, 21–35. 7. Turcan 1996 [1989], 16–17. 8. Although not expressing this overall theory, P. M. Fraser (1977, 60) seems to think of associations as functioning to compensate for negative immigrant experiences. 9. See Harland 2006, 21–35. 10. Brown 1978, 2–3, citing Dodds 1965, 137. Other Diasporas 101 As the material discussed in this chapter shows, an image of widespread rootlessness among immigrant and other populations does not fi t well with evidence concerning real-life associations, at least in the case of many Syrian and Judean associations. Despite the meagre nature of the evidence, a number of cases point to the probability that associations based on shared ethnic identity were a further means by which immigrants were in some signifi cant ways fi rmly planted not only in traditions of the homeland but also, to various degrees, in their societies of sett lement. Yet we should not begin by presupposing widespread rootlessness or relative deprivation and then reduce associations to merely compensatory phenomena within some overall theory. Th is case study draws att ention to evidence regarding both acculturation and continued att achments to the homeland. Th is chapter serves to counter notions of widespread rootlessness among immigrants while also laying the groundwork for the comparative study of ethnically based associations, including Judean gatherings. Th is dual purpose can be accomplished by delving into the evidence for associations of immigrants from the eastern coast of the Mediterranean sea—known as the Levant—especially associations consisting of members formerly from Syria, Phoenicia, and Samaria, regions neighbouring Judea or Galilee. Samaritans (who designate themselves “Israelites” on Delos) are included here not because they necessarily share some particular cultic affi nity with Phoenicians, but because they too neighboured Judea and because contemporaries sometimes included Samaritan towns either within the Phoenician sphere or within the Judean sphere. Several useful studies address evidence regarding immigrants from Syria or Phoeni- cia, especially individual immigrants or families at places such as Delos and Rhodes, as we shall see. Yet none focuses att ention on dynamics of acculturation and the maintenance of ethnic identities in associations of Syrians or Phoenicians specifi cally. Rather than merely theorizing about the general experience of immigrant groups, this case study begins to fi ll a gap in our knowledge by looking at the concrete ways in which particular Syrian associations adapted to their place of sett lement while simultaneously maintaining contacts with their place of origin. Th is provides a fi tting framework for comparison with acculturation and identity among Judean groups in the cities of the Mediterranean world.

Insights from the Social Sciences

Some terminological clarifi cations that build on my discussion in the introduction are in order before proceeding with the discussion of both immigrant associations in this chapter and Judeans at Hierapolis in the next chapter. As I explained in the introduction, “ethnic identity” is used to refer to a group’s shared sense of who they are based on certain experiences and notions of connection deriving from group members’ perceptions of common geographical, cultural, and ancestral origins. From the (Tajfelian) social identity theorists’ perspective, ethnic identity is that aspect of the self-concept that derives from belonging to an ethnic or cultural minority group.11 Th ese two ways of understanding the term—pertaining to the collective and to the individual—are not mutually exclusive, and both will inform the discussion at certain points.

11. Cf. Phinney 1990. 102 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Closely related to studies of identity, particularly ethnic identity, are social-scientifi c studies of migration and acculturation. Th ere are three main concepts from this area of study that may assist in the analysis of immigrants’ processes of negotiation in the place of sett lement and in our discussion of Judean families at Hierapolis in the next chapter. Th e approach I take here is informed primarily by the sociological work of Milton Yinger and by the social-psychological work of John W. Berry, among others.12 Recent studies of Christians and Judeans successfully employ similar theories of assimilation or acculturation, including David Balch’s (1986) study of 1 Peter’s household code and John M. G. Bar- clay’s study (1996) of Judeans in the diaspora. Th e fi rst important concept iscultural assimilation, or acculturation, which refers to cultural interchanges and processes of boundary negotiation associated with encounters between two diff erent groups (or individual members of two groups) with distinctive cultural traits.13 Acculturation can involve the selection, adoption, and adaptation of a variety of cultural elements including language, values, and other cultural conventions that com- pose the lifestyle and worldview of a particular cultural group. Th is process is selective and transformative, with some cultural elements being adopted and adapted and other elements being rejected.14 It is important to emphasize that in my theoretical framework here acculturation can progress signifi cantly without the disintegration of a group’s boundaries in relation to a larger cultural entity. Cultural adaptation is oft en a twofold process entailing the “maintenance of cultural integrity as well as the movement to become an integral part of a larger societal framework,” as Berry puts it.15 Another related concept is “biculturalism,” which is used by Berry and others to refer to a dynamic process involving the individual’s participation in both the minority culture and the majority culture.16 A fully “biculture” individual would be a person who is both highly enculturated into the minority group culture and highly acculturated to the majority culture. In the study of modern diasporas (a subfi eld of migration studies), a similar term is “hybridity,” which implies the combination of ethnic or other identities in a particular individual or group. As Stuart Hall puts it, the “diaspora experience . . . is defi ned, not by essence or purity, but by the recognition of a necessary heterogeneity and diversity; by a conception of ‘identity’ which lives with and through, not despite, diff erence; by hybridity.” 17 A second main concept is structural assimilation, which in Yinger’s use refers to degrees of social integration or participation within informal social networks (e.g., neighbourhoods, associations) or formal structures (e.g., political, legal, social, or economic institutions) of a given host society.18 It is important to note the importance of evaluating diff erent types of social interactions and their implications regarding levels of assimilation. Th us, for instance, a case of intermarriage between individuals of two diff erent cultural groups

12. Berry 1980; Berry 1997, 5–34; Yinger 1981, 249–64; Phinney 1990; Marger 1991, 117–20; Yinger 1994. 13. Cf. Yinger 1981, 249. 14. Cf. Barnett 1954, 973–1002. 15. Berry 1980, 13. 16. Birman 1994. 17. Hall, as cited and discussed in Brubaker 2005, 6. 18. Yinger 1981, 254; cf. Marger 1991, 118; Elise 1995, 275. Other Diasporas 103 would correspond to higher degrees of assimilation than would occasional contacts with someone of a diff erent cultural group within social networks. Th e diffi culty is that there is rarely suffi cient evidence from antiquity to assess things such as intermarriage among two diff erent cultural groups or the consistency of contacts between certain people or groups. We do, however, gain occasional glimpses into social interactions, such as contacts between benefactors and benefi ciaries, which we need toconsider carefully in order to assess what cultural weight we can att ach to a particular case of networking. Th ird, concepts such as dissimilation and cultural maintenance provide balance to assessments of social and cultural interchanges between cultural groups, emphasizing variety in outcomes.19 Milton Gordon (1964) and other assimilationist scholars of previous generations have been rightly criticized for assuming that “all groups are willing to drop their own cultures and take on that of the core,” as Sharon Elise points out.20 I would suggest that such problematic approaches were more in line with societies that, politically, maintained a “melting-pot” view (e.g., the United States) rather than a “mosaic” view (e.g., Canada) of migration and cultural diversity. In a study of recent trends in immigration and history writing, Ewa Morawska states the following:

Th e assimilation paradigm in its classical version has been abandoned on account of its excessive simplicity, and the “ethnicity-forever” approach that replaced it [in the 1970s] is also passing away. Th e sociology and historiography of immigration may now be on their way toward formulating a more encompassing conceptual framework for the interpretation of adaptation . . . that would integrate both the assimilation and ethnicization processes.21

Regarding ancient cases, Jane Webster’s study (2001) of problems with previous approaches to “Romanization” (a specifi c form of acculturation to Roman ways) makes similar observations concerning the need for a balanced approach that pays att ention to the blending of cultural values and practices.22 Th is is a balance I att empt to accomplish in my analysis of ancient ethnic associations and cultural minority groups in this chapter and following chapters. Recent theories of assimilation and acculturation carefully avoid the tendency to assume complete assimilation or the disappearance of group boundaries as the inevitable outcome. Instead, there is an emphasis on varieties in levels of assimilation, as well as att ention to certain processes that work to counter assimilation in particular ways and at various points in a certain group’s (or individual’s) history.23 Individual members of a cultural minority group (such as Syrians, Judeans, and Christians) are, in an ongoing way, being enculturated into the particular ways of that group while also interacting with the majority culture outside of that group. Yinger, in particular, uses the term “dissimilation” to refer to the way in which

19. Brett ell and Hollifi eld (eds.) 2000. 20. Elise 1995, 277. 21. Morawska 1990, 218. 22. She adapts the concept of “Creolization” as a replacement for “Romanization.” 23. Cf. Brett el and Hollifi eld 2000. 104 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians particular minority or ethnic groups make conscious eff orts to reassert and strengthen specifi c group-society diff erences: “powerful assimilative forces are matched by renewed att ention to socio-cultural diff erences.”24 Moreover, he states:

In spite of identity shift s and high rates of intermarriage in some sett ings and extensive acculturation and integration in almost all sett ings, some subcultural group lines will remain sharp and some individuals will think fi rst of their ethnic group when they appraise their own identities.25

As Jean S. Phinney’s survey of literature (from 1972–1990) also notes, Berry and others view this as a two-dimensional process involving both the culture of the minority group and the culture of the majority, with four main combinations in outcome: (1) strong identifi cation with both groups, which entails integration or biculturalism; (2) an exclusive identifi cation with the majority culture, which entails assimilation; (3) identifi cation with only the minority group, which entails separation; and, (4) identifi cation with neither group, which entails marginality.26 Berry explains the fi rst option, “integration,” which entails the “maintenance of cultural integrity as well as the movement to become an integral part of a larger societal framework.”27

Associations of Immigrants from the Levant

Because of the partial and circumstantial nature of archeological evidence for Syrian and other groups in antiquity, we do not have full access to the same sorts of data as the modern social scientist. Nonetheless, the following discussion of Syrian associations assesses particular historical cases by forming and addressing questions regarding the following indicators of acculturation, structural assimilation, and cultural maintenance: expressions of ethnic identities and ties to the homeland; linguistic practices; rituals, including the gods honoured; other social or cultural conventions or practices (indicative of some level of acculturation and/or cultural maintenance); and, social interactions or network connections with individuals, groups, or institutions (indicative of some level of structural assimilation in the society of sett lement or continued att achments to the homeland). Th e approach here is to look at specifi c historical cases on a geographical and chronological basis while also asking broader questions regarding the extent and nature of connections between particular Syrian groups, on the one hand, and individuals, groups, institutions, and cultural traditions, on the other. Th is will allow observations regarding the historical specifi cs of particular cases while also drawing att ention to common factors and patt erns that are observable from one Syrian group to another at diff erent locales and in diff erent periods. Gathering together in an ongoing association to honour the god(s) and to socialize

24. Yinger 1981, 257; see pp. 257–61. 25. Yinger 1981, 261. 26. See Phinney 1990, 501–2. 27. Berry 1980, 13; cf. Berry 1997. Other Diasporas 105

Figure 11. Monument fr om Delos dedicated “to Apollo and the Italian gods” by the Italian Hermaists, Apolloniasts, and Poseidoniasts, now in the British Museum (GIBM IV 963 = IDelosChoix 157; 74 bce) with friends was a tendency shared by migrants from various parts of the Mediterranean. Some should be mentioned before turning to Syrians specifi cally. On the island of Delos alone, for instance, there were communities of Italians, Samaritans, Judeans, Egyptians, and both Tyrians and Berytians from Syria, amidst others in the Hellenistic era.28 Th e monument in fi gure 11, for instance, involves three diff erent associations of Italian merchants— Hermes-, Apollo-, and Poseidon-devotees—who list their twelve leaders and dedicate the monument “to Apollo and the Italian gods” in the so-called Italian marketplace (GIBM IV 963 = IDelosChoix 157; 74 bce). On the island of Rhodes there were associations of immigrants from Herakleia in Pontus, from Perge in Pamphylia, and from nearby Crete.29 Par- ticularly visible in Asia Minor were the many associations or “sett lements” (κατοικοῦντες) of Roman and Italian businessmen at places like Ephesos, Kibyra, Assos, and Apameia.30 Th ose who emigrated from Asia Minor also gathered together in associations based on common geographic origins. Th ere are inscriptions att esting to Milesians sett led on Amor- gos island and inhabitants from Pontic Herakleia in Scythia.31 Among the many groups of sett lers from Asia Minor at Rome were the collegium of Nysaians, the guild of Ephesian

28. Cf. Bruneau 1970, 457–96, 585–630. 29. IG XII.1 158 (cf. IG XII.1 963; IGLSkythia III 72); ILindos 391 and 392 (time of Augustus); IGR IV 1128 (time of Augustus). 30. See, for instance, Hatzfeld 1919; Müller and Hasenohr 2002. 31. Milesians: IG XII.7 395–410 (second-third cent. ce). Herakleians: IGLSkythia III 72 = SEG 24 (1974), no. 1037 (second cent. ce). 106 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians shippers and merchants, and a group of Sardians, to name just a few.32 Other associations proudly identifi ed cultural att achments to Asia Minor by labeling themselves a “society” or “company” (thiasos or speira) of “Asians,” as with a number of groups in Macedonia, Th racia, Moesia, and Dacia.33 Turning to sett lers in Syria itself, at Sidon there were associations of soldiers formed based on common geographic origins, including the “corporate bodies” of Kaunians, Termessians, and Pinarians.34 Th e formation of such associations based on common geographic origins is itself an important sign of identifi cation with one’s homeland and its cultural ways, as well as an indicator of cultural maintenance and the expression of ethnic identities in the society of sett lement. Evidence for Phoenician or Syrian associations abroad in particular is quite considerable in comparison with other sett lers that formed associations based on geographic origins or ethnic identity.35 Although the inscriptions and buildings associated with these Syrian associations provide only momentary glimpses into issues of identity and acculturation, there are common threads running through the surviving materials. Th ere are indications of both identifi cation with the cultural lifeof the homeland and notable contacts within local social and cultural life in the place of sett lement in a number of cases. Th ese contacts can be interpreted in terms of some degree of integration, even though the chronological and geographical distribution of the evidence makes it diffi cult to determine what degree. We simply do not have suffi cient evidence of Syrian immigrants from one time and place to permit a thick description of a particular group’s levels of cultural and structural assimilation. What we do have is evidence from various locales over time which can nonetheless provide indications regarding recurring trends among Syrian immigrants.

Attica and the Piraeus in the Hellenistic Era

Some of the earliest evidence for associations of Syrians or Phoenicians comes from the Piraeus, port city to Athens. Th ere we fi nd worship of numerous foreign deities, as well as the establishment of associations based on common geographical origins and a shared sense of ethnic identity, including Egyptians, Carians, Phrygians, and Th racians.36 Figure 12 depicts a group of athletic youths approaching the goddess Bendis, the patron deity of Th racians sett led in the Piraeus. Evidence for Athenian control over the entrance of foreign cults is particularly strong for the fi hft and fourth centuries, when “foreigners” were

32. Clerc 1885, 124–31, side B, lines 35–45 (the other side of this monument contains IEph 22), on which also see Lüderitz 1994, 194–95, with trans. in note 36; IGUR 26 and 86. Also see La Piana 1927, 183–403 and Noy 2000. 33. IG X.2 309, 480 (second-third cent. ce); IPerinthos 56 = IGR I 787 (196–198 ce); BE 65 (1952), 160, no. 100 (Dionysopolis); IGBulg 480 (Montana; second cent. ce). See Edson 1948, 154–58, who discusses numerous cases. 34. Macridy 1904 = Mendel 1912–14, vol. 1 nos. 102–8. 35. On associations or brotherhoods (esp. hbr and mrzh) in Phoenicia or Syria itself, see Teixi- dor 1964, 77–82; Eissfeldt 1968, 285–95, 264–70; Milik 1972, 141–281; Teixidor 1977, 6. Walter Ameling (1990, 189–99) lists a number of cases involving diaspora Syrian associations. 36. Garland 1987, 107–9, and pp. 101–38 generally. On associations and foreigners at Athens in the Hellenistic period, see Parker 1996, 333–42; Vestergaard 2000, 81–109. Other Diasporas 107

Figure 12. Marble relief of Bendis, goddess of the Th racians, along with several athletic youths; relief now in the British Museum (ca. 400–375 bce) required to submit a formal request for permission to establish a sanctuary for their patron deities. As Robert Garland points out, however, it seems that by the late fourth century this control had lessened, as none of the cults established in the following era makes mention of such a special privilege.37 Alongside these groups in the Piraeus are Phoenicians, who are att ested as early as the third century bce in two bilingual inscriptions.38 One is an epitaph erected for a deceased daughter by a chief-priest of the god Nergal, an Assyrian deity that had been imported into Sidon at an early stage.39 Th e more important inscription here includes, in Greek, honours and crowns granted by an “association (κοινόν) of Sidonians” for a fellow Sidonian (IG II2 2946).40 Above this is a more extensive Phoenician inscription that dates to the third century bce. In it, Greek-style honours are granted to one Shama’baal, president of the group in charge of the temple. Th e inscription happens to mention the funds belonging to “god Baal of Sidon,” likely the patron deity of the association. Th e title Baal, “Lord,” could of course apply to a number of Canaanite or Phoenician deities. Yet here it most likely refers

37. Garland 1987, 107–109. 38. For Phoenician inscriptions from Cyprus and Greece generally, see CIS I 10–96, 114–21. Two later inscriptions att est to the existence of a “priestess of the Syrian deity” at the Piraeus (IG II2 1337, 2361; 95/94 bce and third cent. ce). Th e former involves honours off ered by an association. 39. See Garland 1987, 237, no. 100; Eiselen 1907, 130. 40. Most recently republished and discussed by Ameling 1990. 108 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians to the god Eshmun, who was particularly prominent at Sidon and associated with Astarte, who possessed primary place as patron deity of that city.41 Regarding Sidonians in Att ica, there is an earlier honorary inscription from Athens itself in which the Athenian people honour Apollonides, a Sidonian, on the request of a group of merchants and shippers (IG II2 343; ca. 332/331 bce).42 Th ese early cases involving those identifi ed as Sidonian in Att ica demonstrate dynamics of identity and acculturation at play. On the one hand, there is the continued use of Phoenician language and the worship of Sidon’s native deity. On the other, there are indications of adaptation to local, Greek cultural practices, most notably the use of Greek and the engagement in Greek-style honorary activities (either of which may also have begun before migration with the Hellenization of Syria under the Seleucids beginning in the third century bce). Th e fact that a presumably wealthy Sidonian at nearby Athens was honoured not only by a group of merchants but also by the civic institution of the people of Athens shows that such wealthy Syrian immigrants could maintain important links with civic institutions in at least an occasional manner. Shortly, I discuss other cases in which Syrian associations maintained relations either with institutions in the society of sett lement, pointing towards some degree of structural assimilation, or with the institutions of the homeland, suggesting areas of cultural maintenance.

Islands of the Aegean, Including Delos, in the Hellenistic Era

Individual immigrants from Syria gathered together in associations on numerous Greek islands of the Aegean, particularly on islands with an importance for shipping and trade networks. Many Phoenicians are att ested on the island of Cos, for instance. A fourth century bce inscription in both Greek and Phoenician involves the identifi cation of the Phoe- nician goddess Astarte (Ashtoreth) with Aphrodite.43 And there was at least one “society” (θίασος) in the fi rst century bce with a Syrian connection worshipping Astarte and Zeus Soter, likely identifi ed with a Lord such as Baal Shamem (“Lord of Heaven”).44 Although worshipped throughout Syria and beyond, Astarte was particularly prominent at Sidon and Tyre.45

41. Cf. Lucian Syr. D., 4. Th e suggestion that Astarte held prominent position in relation to Eshmun is based on the practice of Sidonian kings, who called themselves priests of Astarte rather than of Eshmun (see Eiselen 1907, 127–128). 42. Individual Syrians (both men and women) in Athens and Att ica: Berytians: IG II2 1008, 1011, 1960, 8407, 8408, 9484 Sidonians: IG II2 960, 1043, 2314, 2316, 8358, 8388, 10265–86; CIS 115, 116, 119. Tyrians: IG II2 342, 3147, 4540, 4698, 10468–73, 11415. Sidonian sett lements or communities are also att ested elsewhere in the Hellenistic era, including Judea and Idumea in the second century bce. See Isaac 1991, 132–44; Josephus Ant. 12.258–264a; OGIS 593. 43. See Bonnet 1996, 87–88. 44. IKos 165a (Tyrian), 194 (Sidonian) 341 (Tyrian); IKosSegre ED 54 (Tyrian), EV 150 (Phoe- nician). IRhodM 496; see Bonnet 1988, 378. 45. Bonnet 1996, 30–44. Other Diasporas 109 An association of Syrians is also att ested on Syme island (east of Cos and north of Rhodes). Th is honorary inscription of the late fi rst century bce involves honours for an Idumean “resident foreigner” (μετοίκοs), who had been a benefactor of several associations and neighbourhoods. Among these groups was an association of Syrians devoted to Adonis, Aphrodite, and Asklepios (IG XII.3 6).46 Here again there is involvement by an expatriot from the Levant (from Idumea) within local networks. Yet in this case there are even clearer signs of multiple connections in the place of sett lement, involving links with other immigrants (Syrians) and with native populations (the districts). Th ere are higher concentrations of evidence regarding immigrant groups at locales with the highest strategic importance for trade routes, including the island of Delos. Th e majority of our evidence here comes from the second century bce, especially the period when Delos was under direct rule by Athens (166–88 bce) and came to be considered a free port by the ascendant Roman power.47 Th ere has been a notable amount of research on immigrants sett led on Delos in the Hellenistic period, particularly individual immigrants, Italians, merchants, and bankers.48 Philippe Bruneau’s extensive study examines the cults of Delos generally, including those devoted to “foreign” deities.49 Marie-Françoise Baslez’s article begins to scratch the surface of our present concern by arguing that ethnically based associations were mechanisms by which eastern immigrants maintained att achments to their own traditions while also inte- grating into a new society. Yet Baslez’s study is quite general and is primarily focused on issues of organization and on distinguishing associations of “oriental” foreigners from the more typical Greek associations.50 Here I begin with associations of Phoenicians or Syrians of the second century before turning to Samaritans. Beyond the numerous individual expatriots from Syria att ested on Delos, there is signifi cant evidence for Syrian orPhoenician cults and associations.51 One monument involves a dedication by three men to “Heracles and Hauronas, the gods who dwell in Jam- nia,” on behalf of their brothers, relatives, and “the citizens with them.”52 Th ese are Phoeni- cian Jamnians who had ongoing contact with one another (perhaps in an association) in

46. Literary evidence points to the prominence of the cult of Adonis just outside of Berytos at Aphaca. Lucian mentions the rites of Adonis in connection with “Aphrodite” at Byblos, for instance, so it is possible that these Syrians on Syme island have some connection to either Berytos or Byblos. Teixidor 1977, 35; Lucian Syr. D., 6. 47. Cf. Binder 1999, 297. 48. E.g., Bruneau 1970, 585–620; Rauh 1993; Le Dinahet 1997a, 617–66; Le Dinahet 1997b, 325–36; Le Dinahet 2001, 103–23; Müller and Hasenohr 2002. Th e evidence for Italian or Roman immigrant associations includes IDelos 1730–71; IDelosChoix 86, 95–98, 105, 107, 116, 131, 138, 144–45, 157, 164. 49. Bruneau 1970, 457–96. 50. Baslez 1988, 147. 51. Individual Syrians on Delos: Berytians: IDelos 2034, 2182, 2593, 2598, 2599, 2633 Sidonians: IDelos 1925, 2091a-b, 2100, 2101, 2314, 2396, 2549, 2598, 2612, 2879 Tyrians: IDelos 1925, 1937, 2005, 2130, 2366, 2598, 2599, 2612, 2616; IG XI.4 777. 52. IDelos 2308; cf. 2309. See Isaac 1991, 139; Bruneau 1970, 475. 110 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians connection with the sanctuary of these deities on Delos.53 Th e gods in question can be identifi ed with the Canaanite or Phoenician deities Melqart (here Herakles) and Hauron (also transliterated Horon).54 A similar Phoenician connection is evident in dedications by a banker from Ascalon for the “Ascalonian Poseidon” and for the “Palestinian Heavenly Astarte” (around 100 bce).55 A number of inscriptions from the fi naldecades of the second century bce att est to a cult of Syrian deities on Delos centered around the worship of a goddess called variously the “Pure Goddess” (Ἁγνή θεά), “Pure Aphrodite,” “Pure Aphrodite, the Syrian Goddess,” or “Atargatis, Pure Goddess.”56 Th is is the same Atargatis that I discussed in connection with processions in chapter 2. Several of these monuments indicate there was a board of functionaries or “therapeutists” (θ\εραπ\ε\υταί) connected with this cult of Syrian deities, and that the cult was led by a priest and priestess. Some of these priests and priestesses were from Syrian Hierapolis (Bambyke) itself, home of the famous temple of Atargatis as described by Lucian of Samosata.57 Some though not all of the inscriptions dedicated to this goddess involve expatriots from Syrian towns, including Laodicea, Antioch, and Hierapolis.58 Among these dedications are those to the deities Atargatis and Hadad, who also seem to have been coupled at the sanctuary of Hierapolis in the homeland. A number of these same inscriptions add a third honoree, “Asklepios,” who is likely to be identifi ed with Eshmun, according to H. Seyrig.59 More importantly with respect to associations, in one inscription there is mention of the “society members” (θιασίται) of the “Pure Goddess” under the direction of a “synagogue leader” (συναγωγεύς). A subsequent discovery of another inscription, which likely relates to the same group, now clarifi es that this was an ethnic group called “the association of Syrian society members (τὸ κοινὸν τῶν θιασιτῶ[ν] | τῶν Σύρων).”60 It is worth noting that a similar society of the “ancestral gods” (τῶι κοινῶι τοῦ θιάσου τῶν πατρίω[ν]) devoted to Phoenician deities, including Atargatis, existed on the island of Astypalaia in the third or second century bce (IG XII.3 178). Syrians abroad continued to carefully honour the deities of their native land, and they did so, in part, by forming associations. Further materials from Delos pertain to Tyrians and, more extensively, Berytians from

53. Because of the mixed population of Jamnia, the site is sometimes described as a Phoeni- cian city (Philo of Byblos) and sometimes as a Judean or Palestinian city (see Isaac 1991, 138). 54. Bruneau 1970, 475; Isaac 1991, 139–40. On the god Hauron, see Albright 1936, 1–12; Albright 1941, 7–12. 55. IDelos 1719–21; cf. IDelos 2305; Bruneau 1970, 474. 56. On this cult, see IDelos 2220–2304; Siebert 1968, 359–74; Bruneau 1970, 466–73. For dedicators who label her the “Syrian goddess” or identify the Pure Goddess as Atargatis see, for instance, IDelos 2245, 2251, 2252, 2275 (all ca. 100 bce), 2294, 2299, 2300. 57. E.g., IDelos 2257, 2258, 2283. 58. Syrian expatriots are from Antioch (IDelos 2224, 2263, 2285), Hierapolis (nos. 2226, 2261), and Laodicea (nos. 2259, 2262, 2264, 2270). Among the other dedicants are an Alexandrian (no. 2225), an Athenian (nos. 2251–52), a man from Marathon (no. 2245), and several Romans (nos. 2255, 2266, 2269). 59. IDelos 2224, 2248, 2261, 2264; Lucian Syr. D. See Seyrig 1960, 246–47; Bruneau 1970, 470– 71. 60. For the inscription with commentary, see Siebert 1968. Other Diasporas 111 Phoenicia. In both cases, it is the economic importance of Delos that brought these immigrants. Th e “synod of Tyrian merchants and shippers” at Delos is known from just one inscription, dating to 153/152 bce (IDelos 1519 = IDelosChoix 85).61 Th e inscription recounts the outcome of a particular assembly (ἐκκλησία) of the members of the association, who are also called “society members” (θιασίται). Th is group honoured a fellow member, named Patron, who had shown his goodwill by leading an embassy to Athens, which at this point controlled Delos. Th e embassy had been successful in gaining permission for the group to build its own sanctuary for “Herakles.” What is particularly signifi cant with respect to the expression of ethnic identity here is the patron deity of this association, which suggests important connections with the homeland of Tyre. Th e merchants’ identifi cation of their god Herakles as “founder of the homeland” (ἀρχηγοῦ δὲ τῆς πατρίδος) in line 15 has particular importance here. Corinne Bonnet’s study shows the consistency with which Tyrian nationals abroad identifi ed their native deity, Melqart, with Herakles specifi cally.62 Primary in this characterization was the notion that the god Melqart was the founder of cities, so the epithet “the founder” (ἀρχηγέτης) oft en accompanies the identifi cation of Melqart with Herakles. For instance, about the same time these Tyrians on Delos inscribed their honours, two brothers from Tyre who had sett led on the Sicilian island of Malta erected a bilingual dedication for “Melqart, Lord of Tyre” (in Phoenician), who is translated as “Herakles the Founder” (in Greek).63 As Aaron Jed Brody’s study shows, both Melqart and a Semitic god identifi ed with “Poseidon” were among the favourite patron deities of Phoenician and Punic sailors and merchants for centuries.64 Th e Tyrians on Delos who founded this sanctuary also make mention of a festival in honour of a “Poseidon” (line 40), which brings us to sett lers originally from Berytos (Beirut) who were devoted to a “Poseidon.” Evidence for immigrants from Berytos sett led on Delos is more substantial than the evidence for Tyrians, including numerous inscriptions. Most of these were found in excavations of the meeting place of the association (IDelos 1520, 1772–96, 2325). Th is group called itself the association (κοινόν) of “Poseidon-worshipping merchants, shippers, and receivers from Berytos.” Like the Tyrian guild, this group was active around the middle of the second century bce. A number of honorary and dedicatory monuments show the continuing importance of the gods of Berytos for these compatriots, as the inscriptions refer to the “ancestral gods” (πατρίοι; IDelos 1783, 1785, 1789). Th e most prevalent native deities on coins from the city of Berytos itself are the deities Poseidon (a Hellenized expression for a Phoenician sea god) and both Eshmun and Astarte (also prevalent at Sidon), so these are among the possibilities for this guild’s patron deities.65 Among the monuments erected by the Berytians on Delos for such gods is the dedication of a meeting place (οἶκος) with “oracles for the ancestral gods” (IDelos 1774). Alongside this sense of cultic att achment to the homeland are indications of adaptation

61. A fourth century dedication from Delos involves “sacred shippers” from Tyre, however (IDelos 50). 62. Bonnet 1988; cf. Millar 1993, 264–65; Freyne 2001, 185–88. 63. IG XIV 600. See Freyne 2001, 185–86; cf. Herodotus Histories 2.44. 64. Brody 1998, 22–26, 33–37. 65. On the Phoenician cult of Poseidon see Teixidor 1977, 42–46. 112 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians to the cultural landscape of the new home, at least in terms of relations with the powers- that-be and involvements within social networks. On the one hand, there are two inscriptions that concern relations with Athens and its institutions. In one, the association erects a monument “for the people of the Athenians on account of the virtue and goodwill which the people continues to show towards the association” (IDelos 1777). Another involves the association’s honours for a benefactor named Demokles, likely an Athenian citizen. Th e monument includes a series of crowns captioned by either “the association” or “the Athe- nian people” (IDelos 1780). On the other hand, there are signs of interaction with the Italian or Roman mercan- tile and cultural presence on Delos. Th us, the most extensive inscription pertaining to this Berytian association involves honours for a Roman banker named Marcus Minatius, son of Sextus, around 153 bce (IDelos 1520). Minatius is praised by the association for his contributions in connection with both his fi nancing of the completion of the headquarters and his off ering of a special sacrifi ce and banquets for members. In return, members of the association off er several forms of honour, including the erection of a statue of Minatius in the meeting place and the establishment of special honorary occasions on which to renew their crowning of this benefactor, including a procession with a sacrifi cial ox. Furthermore, this Roman Minatius himself att ends meetings and festivals of the Berytians, along with his own guests. Th is suggests close connections between these Syrian immigrants and an important Roman merchant on Delos. Some decades later, in about 90 bce, the same association honoured a Roman benefactor, Gnaius Octavius son of Gnaius, a praetorian provincial governor (IDelos 1782). Perhaps even more important for present purposes is the integration of the goddess Roma (personifi ed Rome) alongside the ancestral gods of Berytos within the cultural life of this group (IDelos 1778, 1779). Quite striking is the statue base on which Roma is praised for her positive relations not only with the guild but also with Berytos, the homeland ( IDelos 1778, lines 1–4). Archeologists excavating the remains of the meeting place have identifi ed three or four shrines in the northwestern section, and there is agreement among scholars that, alongside shrines for Phoenician deities such as Poseidon and Astarte, Roma was assigned a shrine and became integrated within the ritual life of this group, at least by the fi rst half of the fi rst century bce.66 Materials from other parts of the Mediterranean in other periods suggest that, as an immigrant group, the Berytians are not completely unusual in terms of maintaining connections with civic institutions and Roman fi gures or traditions. In this sense, these indications of assimilation may be indicative of what was going on in other Syrian groups in connection with whom we happen to lack this number of inscriptions. It is the number and consistency of contacts that stands out in the Berytian case and there are diffi culties in assessing to what degree this level of interaction is peculiar or representative. Certain aspects of the Berytians’ interactions are characteristic of Delos in the mid-second century, when various individuals and groups vied with one another in seeking some level of recognition in relation to both Athenian and Roman institutions or authori-

66. On the building history see Picard 1920, 263–311; Bruneau 1970, 622–30; Bruneau 1978, 160–90; Meyer 1988, 203–20; Bruneau 1991, 377–88; McLean 1996, 196–205 (who summarizes earlier discussions); Trümper 2002, 265–330. Other Diasporas 113 ties. It should also be noted that the evidence from Delos involves Syrian merchants in an economically important centre of the Aegean. Th ese higher levels of involvement in the society of sett lement may or may not be consonant with what went on in certain other Syr- ian associations in this or other locales or periods. Delos also provides roughly contemporary evidence for another group of expatriots from the Levant, namely “Israelites” or Samaritans, who may or may not have been involved in trade. Th ese inscriptions are particularly important since, to this point, they represent our only evidence for associations of Samaritans in the Hellenistic or early Roman eras. Individual Samaritans are att ested in inscriptions from elsewhere, of course, including a Samaritan man who was buried on Rhodes (IJO II 11) and several others at Athens or the Piraeus (IJO I Ach 35, 36, 37). And there is an interesting case involving a “Samaritan” listed as a member of an ethnically mixed group in the Piraeus, probably a “society” ([οἱ θιασῶ]τα[ι]; IJO I Ach 41; fourth or third cent. bce). As to the ethnic identities of those labeled “Samaritans,” Josephus claims that some Samaritans might identify themselves using the ethnic descriptor of “Sidonians,” suggesting a Phoenician connection for some of the population sett led in Samaria. However, Josephus also goes on to claim that Samaritans associated with the sanctuary on Mount Gerizim would go so far as to actively identify their god with a Hellenistic deity (Zeus Hel- lenios; Josephus Ant. 12.258–64). Yet a comparable passage in 2 Maccabees points towards Samaritan hesitancy on precisely such matt ers, referring to the Samaritans’ refusal to dedicate their temple on Gerizim to Zeus Xenios (“Protector of Strangers”), along with the Judean refusal to dedicate the Jerusalem temple to Olympian Zeus.67 So it is diffi cult to assess what these “Israelites” on Delos would think of themselves in relation to Phoenicians and the cultural landscape of contemporary Hellenistic Syria. What is clear is the continuing att achment to the rites practiced at Gerizim. Samaritans on Delos are att ested in only two inscriptions of the late third or second century bce. Th ese monuments were found about one hundred meters away from the structure identifi ed as the meeting place of a group of Judeans or Samaritans (GD 80). 68 As in the case of the Tyrians and Berytians on Delos, the Samaritan inscriptions indicate att achments to the cultic life of the homeland. In fact, the group of Samaritans here had incorporated this sense of ethnic and cultic identifi cation within the title of the group itself. Th e self-designation of the group appears roughly the same in both inscriptions despite the time separation (of between twenty-fi ve and one hundred years) between them, namely, “the Israelites of Delos who contribute to sacred Μount Gerizim” (οἱ ἐν Δήλω Ισραελεῖται οἱ ἀ|παρχόμενοι εἰς ἱερὸν Ἀργα|ριζείν). Here att achments to the religious life of Samaria are expressed not only through mention of the holy site. Connections to the homeland are also indicated in the fact that, at least at some point, the group seems to have fi nancially

67. 2 Macc 6:2. See Isaac 1991, 136–38, 143 n. 45 and Binder 1999, 471. On problems with the anti- Samaritan bias of our sources (including the crucial 2 Kings 17), see Grabbe 1992, 502–7. Grabbe concludes that the Samaritans continued a “conservative Yahwistic cult” and “there is no more evidence of a pagan origin to Samaritan worship than there is to Jewish worship” (Grabbe 1992, 506). 68. Bruneau 1982, 465–504 = SEG 37 (1987), no. 809–10 = NewDocs VIII 12a-b. See Trümper 2004, 513–98, who likewise leaves open the possibility of Judean or Samaritan identifi cation (cf. Runesson 2001, 185–87). Th e early presence of Judeans on Delos is suggested by literary evidence: 1 Macc 15:15–23; Josephus Ant. 14.231–32. 114 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians supported the ritual activities at Mount Gerizim in a manner comparable to diaspora Judeans’ support of the temple in Jerusalem.69 Th e earlier of the two inscriptions (which dates about 250–175 bce) involves the Isra- elites honouring one Menippos from Herakleia—along with his descendants—for his contributions to the group (NewDocs VIII 12b = IJO I Ach 66). Th e fact that Menippos had arranged to build and dedicate a “prayer house” (προσευχῇ) “in fulfi llment of a vow to God” suggests that he too was a devotee of the God worshipped at Gerizim. Th is draws att ention to the complicated and multiple nature of identities. Either Menippos was a gentile who had come to worship the Israelites’ God or he was a Samaritan who migrated fi rst to Herakleia before coming to Delos (either to sett le or to visit), likely for business purposes. If the latt er, then depending on circumstances Menippos might be identifi ed by others—or identify himself—as a Herakleian,70 a Delian, a Samaritan, or some combination of these identities, as here. I return to the importance of such multiple identities in chapters 6 and 7. Th e later honorary inscription (which dates about 150–128 bce, or possibly as late as 50 bce) involves the Israelites’ crowning Sarapion, son of Jason, from Knossos (NewDocs VIII 12a = IJO I Ach 67). Th is man had made some unspecifi ed benefactions to the group. Here there is no indication that this immigrant from the island of Crete is himself a devotee of the God of the Israelites.

Syrian Immigrants in the Roman Empire

In certain ways, the cultural patt erns I have been outlining with regard to some Syrian associations in the Hellenistic era continue into Roman times, although we lack substantial evidence for any one locale comparable to Hellenistic Delos. Syrian sett lers from Spain in the West to Greek islands in the East still continued to form associations in their place of sett lement as a way of expressing their shared sense of ethnic identity. In some cases we primarily know of the existence of Syrian associations of the Roman era without having any further signifi cant information regarding how they understood their identities. A fragmentary Greek inscription from Malaca (Malaga) in Spain, for instance, mentions merely a “patron and president of the association of Syrians” (IG XIV 2540 = IGR I 26).71 So we need to remain aware of the partial and circumstantial nature of epigraphic evidence and to take care in recognizing the tentative nature of any generalizations that can be made regarding levels of assimilation among Syrian immigrant groups. Still, other monuments of the Roman era do provide further glimpses of involvements within local networks of benefaction. On the Aegean island of Nisyros (located between the islands of Cos and Rhodes), an association of Syrians devoted to “Aphrodite” is among several associations that honoured a prominent citizen of Nisyros (IG XII.3 104 = IGR IV

69. Cf. Binder 1999, 473–74. Th e Samaritan temple was destroyed in 128 bce (Josephus Ant. 13.254–56), but rites likely continued aft erwards nonetheless. 70. Among the candidates is the island of Herakleia, south of Delos. 71. Hübner’s reconstruction suggests the possibility that this is an “association of Syrians an[d Asians]” (see Ameling 1990, 196). Other Diasporas 115 1110). Gnomagoras was not only a soldier in the Roman army but also a civic magistrate, priest of the civic cult of the emperors, and benefactor of the gymnasium. Th e inscription specifi cally points out that he supplied oil not only for citizens but also for sett lers (τοῖς κατοικοῦσι) and resident foreigners (τοῖς παρεπιδαμεῦσ|ιν). He is praised for how pleasant he has been “towards all of the associations (τοῖς κοινείοις) which are in Nisyros,” including the Syrians. Such evidence of prominent native citizens engaging in at least occasional positive relations with Syrian immigrant associations, which is also att ested at various locales in the Hellenistic era, suggests the real-life reception of “foreigners” could go beyond the sort of ethnic stereotypes and derogatory att itudes found in some contemporary literary sources. Benjamin Isaac’s survey of xenophobia in Greek and Roman literature shows that “Phoe- nicians” were oft en stereotyped as intelligent (in connection with success in trade) but cruel. Th ose designated “Syrians,” along with others of the East, were sometimes viewed as degenerate, servile, or eff eminate.72 We do need to be careful about assuming that negative stereotypes in the literature were somehow normative or consistent in day-to-day life at particular locales.73 Furthermore, ethnic labeling of oneself or others does “not auto- matically entail tension between the ethnic groups,” as Koen Goudriaan’s study of ethnic groups in Greco-Roman Egypt points out.74 Despite the need for caution in assessing the social implications of such stereotypes in the literature, I return in the next section to the relevance of such stereotypes for the maintenance and development of ethnic identities. Turning to Syrians sett led in Italy in the Roman imperial era, there are two signifi cant pieces of information pertaining to a group of Tyrians at Puteoli, port city of Rome. First, a fragmentary inscription dating to 79 ce reveals that some Tyrians transferred to Puteoli a statue of their native Phoenician deity, here called “Sareptan Helios” (Sarepta was a town between Sidon and Tyre; OGIS 594 = IGR I 420). A second, bett er-preserved monument from about a century later provides a rare glance at some concrete att achments between these immigrant Phoenicians and their homeland of Tyre, “metropolis of Phoenicia” (OGIS 595 = IGR I 421; 174 ce).75 Th e inscription consists of a lett er carried by an emissary from the “sett lement” of Tyrians at Puteoli (οἱ ἐν Ποτιόλοις κατοικοῦντες) to civic institutions of Tyre concerning the maintenance of the group’s “station” or headquarters. Th e association of traders characterizes the situation thus:

Th is station has long been cared for by the Tyrian sett lement in Puteoli, who were many and wealthy, but now our number has dwindled to a few, and in paying for sacrifi ces and the rites of our ancestral gods (τῶν πατρίων ἡμῶν θεῶν) that are established for worship here in temples, we do not have the means to furnish the rent on the station, 250 denarii per year, especially since the payments for the bull

72. Isaac 2004, 324–51. 73. Isaac focuses almost solely on discriminatory ideas rather than the actual treatment of foreigners, but he does acknowledge this limitation of the work (Isaac 2004, 2, 6–7). 74. Goudriaan 1992, 76. 75. See Sosin 1999, 275–85. For earlier discussions, see La Piana 1927, 254–58; D’Arms 1974, 105; Teixidor 1979. 116 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians sacrifi ce at the games at Puteoli are charged to us in addition. We entreat, therefore, that you provide for the lasting permanence of the station.76

As with many of the Syrian associations of the Hellenistic era, concerns to honour the gods of the homeland stand out here at Puteoli, albeit in regard to the expenses involved in maintaining these cults. Th e Tyrian sett lement had recently fallen on hard times and, as a result of various other expenses, were apparently unable to pay the yearly fee they owed to maintain possession of their headquarters. Integral to the argument of the emissary as presented in the lett er were claims of close connections with the homeland and shared social, economic, and cultural interests among compatriots. Th e request of this group of immigrants was not uncontested, however. Joshua D. Sosin’s analysis of the partially preserved minutes of the civic assembly at Tyre shows how one Philokles may have been att empting a hostile takeover or simply dis- solution of the Puteolian station in favour of the station of Tyrians at Rome itself, which is also mentioned in the minutes. 77 Nevertheless, the Tyrian sett lers’ erection of this monument shows that the council and people of Tyre sided not with Philokles but with the Tyr- ians of Puteoli. Tyre itself, it seems, took on the cost of maintaining the station at Puteoli, as Sosin argues.78 Despite debate at home, then, and despite the potential for competition among associations of immigrants from the same homeland, Tyre itself supported the well- being of its citizens abroad, whose att achments to the homeland could be expressed in various ways. Th e Tyrians’ varied identifi cations with their homeland and its cultural ways suggests that ethnic identity continued to play a key role in internal identifi cations and in how this group related to others within the society of sett lement.

Ethnic Stereotypes and Identity among Cultural Minority Groups

Earlier I noted that evidence for positive social relations between Syrian immigrants and others within the cities—indicative of some level of integration—should caution us against overestimating the impact of negative stereotypes about such cultural minorities, stereotypes that are refl ected in literary sources produced by the elites. As usual, the relationship between literary images or rhetoric and social realities as refl ected in archeological evidence is a complicated one which is diffi cult to evaluate, and we should not assume the priority of literary perspectives. Although we need to avoid exaggerating such negative perceptions, it is nonetheless important here to discuss the signifi cance of such stereotypes when they were expressed and their functions in relation to issues of identity. Th is is particularly important in relation to issues of dissimilation and cultural maintenance as I explained those concepts earlier. Th is discussion would apply not only to stereotyping in relation to Syrian ethnic

76. Trans. Sosin 1999, 278, with adaptations. 77. Sosin 1999, 283. 78. Sosin 1999, 281–84. Other Diasporas 117 groups, of course, but also in relation to other cultural minority groups, including Judeans and followers of Jesus. I return to social categorization and stereotypes in chapter 8, which provides a more extensive discussion of accusations of human sacrifi ce, cannibalism, and sexual impropriety against Judeans and Christians. As many social-identity theorists note, the perceptions of outsiders and processes of labeling do play at least some role in how cultural minority groups or their members defi neand redefi ne themselves in relation to other groups.79 Here I discuss two important articles on stereotypes and identity, both of which are informed by Henri Tajfel’s (1978, 1981, 1982) social identity theory. One, by Louk Hagen- doorn (1993), focusses on the functions of stereotypes for the groups doing the evaluation. Th e other, by Richard Jenkins (1994), draws att ention to the role of external categorization (such as that refl ected in stereotypes) in processes of identity reformulation for the groups being negatively evaluated by stereotypes. Hagendoorn explains the function of ethnic stereotypes in terms of their importance for the social identity of the group that is doing the evaluation. Stereotypes are oversimplifi ed sets or confi gurations of characteristics attributed to members of a particular out- group (outside group) by an in-group (insiders). Th ey involve “generalized knowledge about social categories and thereby implicitly evaluate these categories.”80 Overall, Hagen- doorn argues that “[stereotypes] not only evolve from, but also preserve the values of, the in-group by diff erentiating the in-group from negatively evaluated out-groups.”81 Hagendoorn’s perspective helpfully integrates anthropological, sociological, and social psychological approaches to social or ethnic categorization and negative stereotypes (such as those associated with prejudice, ethnocentrism, and racism). He explains that in anthropology stereotypes are oft en explained in terms of cultural misunderstanding.82 Mem- bers of an in-group evaluate an outside group’s customs and activities using insider values and ways of interpreting cultural meaning. When there are diff erences in practices and in the modes of cultural interpretation between the groups, misunderstandings in the form of stereotypes result. As Hagendoorn points out, although this accurately explains some elements of ethnic categorization and stereotypes, it needs to be supplemented by other theoretical perspectives. In sociology, negative stereotypes associated with racism are oft en viewed as justifi cations for “existing diff erences in infl uence, power and wealth between the ethnic majority and the minorities.”83 In other words, a Syrian living in Athens may be characterized negatively by certain Athenian citizens in part because this helps to ensure the superior position of those Athenians in maintaining positions of infl uence. A third perspective is off ered by social psychology. Hagendoorn draws on social- identity theory as developed by Tajfel to explain that stereotypes are a result of the “search for a favourable self-categorization.”84 Stereotypes serve the “cognitive function” of storing

79. Cf. Nazroo and Karlsen 2003, 903–4. 80. Hagendoorn 1993, 33. 81. Hagendoorn 1993, 34. 82. Hagendoorn 1993, 27–28. 83. Hagendoorn 1993, 31. 84. Hagendoorn 1993, 36. 118 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians knowledge and experience in a particular confi guration in order to facilitate further social categorization. As such stereotypes are developed and called upon, they serve a “value preservation” function for the in-group (e.g., a Roman author’s social group) by implicitly evaluating the characteristics of out-groups (e.g., Syrians, Judeans, Christians, “barbarians”) using the values and identity of the in-group as the measuring stick. Th e entire process takes place in such a way that the superiority of the in-group’s (e.g., Romans’) cultural values and customs are evaluated as superior, those of the out-group (e.g., Syrians or others) as in some way inferior. In other words, the process of categorizing or labelling others (outsiders or the out-group) is, in fact, a process of internal self-defi nition. Furthermore, categorizations of various out-groups take place in a hierarchical manner with diff erent out-groups being ranked, so to speak, in relation to the in-group, which maintains the superior position. Hagendoorn emphasizes the importance of these “ethnic hierarchies” that are indicated by social categorizations of ethnic out-groups. Jenkins’s study furthers our understanding of the impact of such stereotypes on the social identity of the negatively evaluated group, in our case the Syrians or Phoenicians. Building on the insights of Fredrik Barth (1969), Jenkins emphasizes the “transactional nature of ethnicity” and points to two main kinds of transactions. First of all, there are processes of internal self-defi nition whereby members of a group communicate to one another and to outsiders their own sense of who they are.85 Second, there are external defi nitions which involve outsiders’ social categorizations of the cultural minority group or its members. Th ese external defi nitions are oft en pejorative and can entail negative stereotypes, for the reasons already outlined by Hagendoorn. It is worth noting that there are affi nities between this twofold, transactional way of explaining identity and Gregory Stone’s (1962) concepts of “identity announcements” (a person’s communication of who they are) and “identity placements” (categorizations by others) as more recently employed in studying situational identities among immigrants.86 Jenkins explains this twofold dynamic in this way:

whereas social groups defi ne themselves, their name(s), their nature(s) and their boundary(s), social categories are identifi ed, defi ned and delineated by others. Most social collectivities can be characterized as, to some extent, defi ned in both ways. Each side of the dichotomy is implicated in the other and social identity is the outcome of the conjunction of processes of internal and external defi nition.87

Cultural minorities or ethnic groups, or their individual members, such as the Syrians, Samaritans, Judeans, and Christians discussed in this study, may handle external categorizations in a variety of ways. Yet in virtually all cases the external stereotypes play some role in internal self-defi nition, according to Jenkins and others. Jenkins explains this process with the concept of “internalization,” as “the categorized group is exposed to the terms in which another group defi nes it and assimilates that cat-

85. Jenkins 1994, 198–99. 86. See, for instance, Ajrouch and Kusow 2007. 87. Jenkins 1994, 201. Other Diasporas 119 egorization, in whole or in part, into its own identity.”88 Th is process of internalization may range from the acceptance of outsiders’ categorizations insofar as those categories happen to fi t the internal self-defi nition of the group, to open rejection or resistance to the external defi nitions. However, even in cases of resistance, Jenkins emphasizes, “the very act of defying categorization, of striving for an autonomy of self-identifi cation, is . . . an eff ect of being categorized in the fi rst place. Th e rejected external defi nition is internalized, but paradoxically, as the focus of denial.”89 I would suggest that similar processes of group identity were at work among immigrant associations in antiquity. Th ese insights regarding social and ethnic identity provide a framework for understanding the potential role of stereotypes regarding Syrians, Phoeni- cians, Judeans, Jesus-followers, and others. Although Isaac’s study of “racism” in antiquity does not fully engage the sort of social-scientifi c theories outlined here, his discussion of Lucian of Samosata’s reactions to stereotypes concerning Syrians is useful for our purposes, particularly since the inscriptions do not supply us with clear evidence of how the stereotypes shaped certain aspects of group self-defi nition in Syrian associations.90 In particular, Isaac points to several passages where Lucian is responding in some way to the stereotypes of outsiders in an ambivalent manner. Here there are clear signs of what Jenkins calls internalization, a process that I discussed in connection with Philo and Josephus in chapter 1 and to which I return in connection with Judeans and Christians in chapter 8. On several occasions, Lucian makes reference to his own identity as a Syrian—a Greek-speaking Syrian, in this case, but a “Syrian” from Samosata nonetheless. Oft en he adopts the perspective of the (Greek or Roman) outsider who would categorize such a person as a “barbarian” based on perceptions of ethnic identity. In one particularly noteworthy passage Lucian not only shows an adoption of the external stereotypes (though perhaps tongue in cheek), he also evinces what Hagendoorn calls “ethnic hierarchies” or rankings of ethnic groups. Lucian does this when he compares his own identity as a Syrian “barbarian” to the royal philosopher Anarchasis as a Scythian “barbarian”: “Well, my own situation is like that of Anacharsis—and please do not resent my likening myself to a man of regal stature, for he too was a barbarian, and no one could say that we Syrians are inferior to Scythians. It isn’t on grounds of royalty that I compare my situation with his, but rather because we are both barbarians” (Scythian 9; cf. Fisher- man 19).91 Th e phrase “no one could say that we Syrians are inferior to Scythians” indicates Lucian’s perception of widely held notions of ethnic hierarchies within the social categorizations of his Greek and Roman elite readers. Comments by ancient ethnographers such as Herodotus confi rm a strongly negative portrayal of Scythian and adjacent peoples.92 Syr- ians and Scythians are both barbarians, from Lucian’s perspective, but there are inferior and less inferior barbarians. Once again it is the in-group (in this case the Greek or Roman perspective internalized by Lucian) that categorizes various ethnic groups using internal

88. Jenkins 1994, 216. 89. Jenkins 1994, 217. 90. Isaac 2004, 341–45. 91. Trans. Harmon 1913–67 (LCL). 92. See, for instance, the discussion of Scythians in Hartog 1988 [1980] and in Dudko 2001– 2002. 120 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians values and perceptions as the measuring stick of what is inferior or superior. To some extent, a higher ranking on the ethnic hierarchy for a particular ethnic group is a result of a perception of greater similarities between the in-group’s (e.g., Greek-speaking elite Greeks’ and Romans’) values and those of that other ethnic group (e.g., Syrians) in comparison with still other ethnic groups (e.g., Scythians). Elsewhere Lucian refl ects knowledge of the more specifi c stereotypes of Phoenicians or Syrians as successful in trade, yet through underhanded means (Ignorant Book-Collector 19–20). Here again it seems that Lucian has internalized stereotypes about Syrians as lacking in morals. He does not openly oppose or resist the stereotypes. Still, the overall satirical context here and elsewhere may, as Isaac notes, suggest a more subtle att empt to “parody normal att itudes” rather than accepting them fully as a self-identifi cation.93 Whether assimilating or resisting, as Jenkins clarifi es, some internalization of external categories is oft en at work in the process of self-identifi cation. Similar dynamics may have been at work among associations of Syrians sett led elsewhere in the ancient Mediterranean. Th is would play a role in the maintenance and development of ethnic identities alongside other areas involving acculturation.

Conclusion

Th is preliminary investigation into processes of identity construction and assimilation among ethnic associations from just one region of the eastern Mediterranean begins to reveal certain recurring patt erns. Th is is the case despite diversity among specifi c groups from the Levant and the diffi culties associated with assessing materials from such a wide geographical and chronological span. Recurring evidence for involvements in the society of sett lement and continued att achments to the homeland speak against notions of a general atmosphere of detachment and rootlessness among immigrant populations in the Hel- lenistic and Roman eras, at least in a number of cases involving Syrian or Phoenician ethnic groups. Despite status as “foreigners” and the potential for ethnic stereotypes to infl uence outsiders’ perceptions, it seems that members of these Syrian groups would in certain circumstances identify themselves fi rst and foremost as Syrians, Phoenicians, Sidonians, Tyrians, or Berytians. Th e multiple, fl exible, and circumstantial nature of identities means that this expression of ethnic distinctiveness was by no means incompatible with the creation or maintenance of social ties in the society of sett lement. Th ese Syrians could also belong within or interact with other subgroups of that society, such as neighbourhoods, districts, and other guilds or associations. Although worship of the gods of the homeland within these associations is evident virtually across the board, this could also be accompanied by identifi cations with, and acculturation to, indigenous, Greek, or Roman deities and customs. Conversely, non- Syrians could come to honour Phoenician deities alongside sett lers. Th is situation was illustrated by non-Syrians att ending the sanctuary of the Pure Syrian Goddess on Delos

93. Isaac 2004, 343. Other Diasporas 121 and by the presence of the Roman Minatius and his guests at gatherings of the Berytian association. Alongside cultural maintenance and acculturation, involvements in social networks in the society of sett lement indicate areas of structural assimilation, both informal and formal. Syrian associations’ links with local non-Syrian benefactors and, in some cases, with civic institutions or authorities could position a particular group closer to the heart of certain webs of power in the Greek city. Oft en the meagre state of the evidence does not allow evaluation of diff ering degrees of engagement from one Syrian group to another. Th is is further complicated by the fact that a number of cases surveyed here involve Syrian mer- cantile groups in important economic centres at particular points in time. Th ese cases may or may not be indicative of what was going on in other Syrian associations. Associations of Syrians and other ethnic groups are worthy of study in their own right. Yet these groups also off er models for comparison with other ethnic groups, including gatherings of Judeans as evidenced by inscriptions. Th e past few decades have witnessed a considerable shift in approaches to the study of the Judean diaspora. Th is is particularly the case with respect to questions of how Judeans related to the cultural contexts in which they found themselves. Moreover, this has been a scholarly shift away from characterizing life in the diaspora as a choice between strongly maintaining ethnic identity through separation, on the one hand, and accommodating completely to the surrounding culture, on the other. Instead, recent work by Paul R. Trebilco (1991), John M. G. Barclay (1996), Erich Gruen (1998), Shaye J. D. Cohen (1999), Tessa Rajak (2002), and others stresses variety among Judean gatherings. Th ese scholars also draw att ention to the complexities involved in Judeans both maintaining a sense of being Judean (or Jewish) and fi nding a home for themselves in specifi c locales throughout the Mediterranean world. Th e Syrian associations off er analogies for comparison with Judean gatherings, particularly regarding patt erns of cultural maintenance and assimilation. Th us, in both cases there is a consistent concern with honouring the god(s) of the homeland alongside involvements within both formal and informal social networks and structures in the place of sett lement, as I discuss at some length in connection with Judeans in the next chapter.94 Flowing from this, there is also considerable evidence that many Syrian and Judean groups adopted local cultural conventions associated with honours and benefaction.95 Judeans and, it seems, Samaritans do stand out from other immigrants from the Levant insofar as cultural maintenance oft en entailed att ention to just one God and this usually excluded identifi cations of that God with deities honoured by others.96 Yet this should not be exaggerated to the point of neglecting comparison, for there are also variations among particular Syrian associations and particular Judean groups in the specifi cs of how a given group engaged in honouring its benefactors, both divine and human.

94. Trebilco 1991; Rajak 2002; Harland 2003a, 213–38. 95. See Harland 2003a, 213–38. 96. Javier Teixidor’s notion of the rise of the “supreme god” and “a trend towards monotheism” in Near Eastern and Syrian religion in the Greco-Roman era remains largely unsubstantiated and is not borne out in the case of Syrian or Phoenician associations abroad, it seems. See Teixidor 1977, esp. pp. 13–17; Teixidor 1979. 122 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Th is preliminary case study suggests that further investigations into immigrant associations of various sorts may provide a more complete picture of where diverse gatherings of Judeans fi t on the landscape of cultural minorities in the ancient Mediterranean world. Such comparative investigations may allow us to assess the ways in which particular ethnic associations were involved in the social and cultural traditions of their homelands and of their societies of sett lement. Now I turn to a case study of Judeans at Hierapolis in Asia Minor, which further fl eshes out some of these dynamics of identity and acculturation. 6

Interaction and Integration

Judean Families and Guilds at Hierapolis

Introduction

Previous chapters on family language and on immigrants show how recent studies of the diaspora are beginning to address regional variations among Judean (Jewish) gatherings and are giving att ention to the relationships between these groups and the societies in which they found themselves.1 Social-scientifi c approachesto migration and ethnicity can assist us in evaluating issues of identity and the relationships between minority groups, such as Judeans and Christians, and majority cultural groups. Th e graves of those who had passed on can also further understanding of such cultural interactions among the living.2 Leonard Victor Rutgers’s study of Judean burials at Rome (second–fourth centuries), for instance, demonstrates this well and fi nds that instead “of living in splendid isolation or longing to assimilate, the Roman Jews . . . appear as actively and, above all, as self-consciously responding to developments in contemporary non-Jew- ish society.”3 Careful att ention to burial customs in other parts of the empire can off er a new vantage point on questions of acculturation and identity among ethnic groups such as Judean gatherings. Th is chapter explores cultural interactions with special att ention to Judean epitaphs from Phrygian Hierapolis in Asia Minor in the second and third centuries.4 Aft er discussing the evidence for Judean associations at this locale, I focus my att ention on the recently republished family grave of P. Aelius Glykon and Aurelia Amia (ca. 200 ce).5 Th is grave

1. On Asia Minor, see, for example, Trebilco 1991, 167–85; Barclay 1996, 259–81, 320–35; Good- man 1998; Rajak 2002, 335–54, 355–72, 447–62; Harland 2003a. 2. On Judean burial in the diaspora, see, for example, van der Horst 1991; Williams 1994b, 165– 82; Strubbe 1994 and 1997; Noy 1998, 75–89. 3. Rutgers 1994, 263. 4. Miranda 1999a, 109–55 (= IHierapMir); cf. SEG 49 (1999), no. 1814–36. 5. Th is inscription was recently republished (1992–93) with corrections by Tullia Ritt i (formerly CIJ 777). I was able to examine the monument (in 2004) thanks to permission from Prof. Francesco D’Andria (director of the Italian Archeological Mission at Hierapolis) and the staff at the Hierapolis museum.

123 124 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians illustrates well the complexity of social and ethnic identities and the potential for interactions between Judeans and their neighbours in the cities of Asia Minor. It involves Glykon’s bequest to local guilds of purple-dyers and carpet-weavers in order to regularly perform ceremonies at this family grave on both Judean (Passover and Pentecost) and Roman (Kalends) holidays. Few scholars fully explore this family grave within the framework of burial practices among Judeans in Hierapolis and in relation to association life in Asia Minor. My approach here has signifi cant implications for issuesof ethnic and social identities among Judeans and others in a Greek city (polis). In looking at this case, I also work to resolve an ongoing debate regarding the composition of the guilds of purple-dyers and carpet-weavers mentioned in the inscription. While several scholars make known their diff ering views on the composition or ethnic identity of these groups (Judean, non-Judean, or mixed), few suffi ciently investigate this issue in relation to other evidence for the purple-dyers at Hierapolis. Th is case also off ers opportunity to further examine dynamics of assimilation and cultural maintenance among cultural minority groups in the diaspora, building on the discussion in the previous chapter. Moreover, there are both indications of acculturation to the society of sett lement and identifi cations with the cultural ways of the ancestral land among Judeans at Hierapolis.

Judeans at Hierapolis

Recent discoveries of graves have added to our knowledge of Judeans at Hierapolis. Elena Miranda’s publication (1999) includes a total of twenty-three Judean grave inscriptions (out of a total of over 360 epitaphs from Hierapolis published by others). Th is includes thirteen new Judean inscriptions beyond those previously published by Walther Judeich (in 1898) and by Fabrizio A. Pennacchiett i (in 1966–67).6 Most Judean inscriptions (IHierapMir 1–21) were found in the northern necropolis, which was extended from the time of Anto- ninus Pius (138–161 ce); monuments in that necropolis date mostly from the middle of the second to the third century ce.7 Two Judean tombs were found elsewhere in the area of the eastern burial grounds (IHierapMir 22–23). Th e Judean inscriptions range in date from the second half of the second century to the third or fourth centuries based on onomastics, the use of names (especially the presence of Aurelius-related names), and on the forms of the lett ering in relation to other dated inscriptions. It is diffi cult to date them with any more certainty, as none expressly supplies a date, and rarely are named fi gures known from other sources. Th e majority of these Judean inscriptions (eighteen) involves an individual identifi ed as “Judean” (Ἰουδαῖος) making provisions for the burial of him- or herself and family members, without explicit reference to a Judean community or gathering. Almost all of these

6. Th ose previously published are: IHierapMir 5 = IHierapJ 69 = CIJ 776; no. 6 = IHierapPenn 14; no. 8 = IHierapJ 72 = CIJ 778; no. 9 = IHierapJ 97; no. 10 = IHierapJ 104; no. 11 = IHierapPenn 30; no. 16 = IHierapJ 212 = IGR IV 834 = CIJ 775; no. 20 = IHierapPenn 46; no. 22 = IHierapJ 295; and no. 23 = IHierapJ 342 = CIJ 777. IHierapJ = Judeich 1898, 67–181. IHierapPenn = Pennacchiett i 1966–67, 287– 328. All twenty-three are also now included, with commentary, in Ameling 2004 (= IJO II 187–209). 7. Pennacchiett i 1966–67, 293–94; cf. Ritt i 1992–93, 42. Interaction and Integration 125

Figure 13. Grave “of the Judeans” fr om Hiera- polis, with a menorah and lion (IHierapMir 6 = IJO II 187) identify the owners of the grave and surrounding area and list other family members that were to be buried there. Several go further in following standard forms of burial inscriptions in this part of Asia Minor by warning that no one else should be buried there and by providing for fi nes in the event that anyone att empted to do so.8 Fines were most oft en payable to local civic institutions, including the “most sacred treasury” (ταμῖον) of Hiera- polis or, in one case, the civic elders’ organization (γερουσίᾳ).9 Several of those that specify fi nes also mention that a copy of the inscription was placed in the civic archives (ἀρχεῖον),10 which was another important formal institution in the Greek cities of Asia Minor. Th e act of placing a copy of these stipulations in the civic archives is suggestive of the formal legal procedures that would be followed in the event that provisions for care and protection of the grave were violated in some way.11 Th ese institutional factors point to areas of structural assimilation that I return to below. Several inscriptions (three, or perhaps four, of the twenty-three) use terminology suggestive of an association of Judeans, providing the only available information about gatherings of Judeans at Hierapolis and the self-designations that these groups used (IHierapMir 5, 6, 14b, 16). Th e epitaph pictured in fi gure 13, which is inscribed with the plural possessive

8. IHierapMir 1, 2, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10, 18, 19, 21. 9. IHierapMir 1 (γερουσία), 2, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10a, 18, 19, 21. 10. IHierapMir 1, 2, 5, 8, 10, 18, 19, 21. 11. On grave violation (τυμβωρυχία) in Asia Minor, see IHierapJ 275, 312 (cf. IIasos 376, 392). IHierapJ 195, which also involves guilds, more directly indicates this legal context in providing a reward (of 800 denaria) for the “one prosecuting the case” for violation. See also Gerner 1941, 230–75, esp. pp. 250–58, and Strubbe 1991, 48 n. 9. For Judean references to the crime, see IJO II 146 (Th yatira), 174 (Akmoneia). 126 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians

Figure 14. Grave mentioning the “people of the Judeans” at Hierapolis (IHierapMir 5 = IJO II 206)

“(Grave) of the Judeans” (Ἰουδέων [sic]), alongside the depiction of a menorah and lion, likely refers to a family of Judeans, rather than an association (IHierapMir 6 = IJO II 187; cf. IHierapMir 10). Still, there are three other defi nite references to associations of Judeans. Ιnterestingly enough, each of the three epitaphs uses diff erent self-designations for the groups in question. In one, a woman and a man explicitly identify themselves as belonging to the “people (τῷ λαῷ) of the Judeans” and make fi nes for violation of their grave payable to this group (see photo in fi gure 14): Th e grave and the burial ground beneath it together with the base and the place belong to Aurelia Glykonis, daughter of Ammianos, and her husband Marcus Aurelius Alexander Th eophilos, also known as Aphelias, of the Judeans. Th ey will be buried in it, but it is not lawful for anyone else to be buried in it. If this is violated, the guilty one will pay a fi ne of 1000 denaria to the people of the Judeans (τῷ λαῷ | τῶν Ἰουδαίων).12 A copy of this inscription was placed in the archives (IHierapMir 5 = IJO II 206; late second or third cent. ce).13

12. Th e designation λαός for a group is quite well att ested in epigraphy for Judeans (cf. CIJ 662, 699–702, 704–8, 720; ISmyrna 296; DFSJ 31 = IJO II 26). 13. Trans. mine. Here and in the following inscriptions I follow Miranda’s readings of the text. Miranda (1999a) suggests the second half of the second century or early third based on the lett ering and the onomastics (presence of Aurelia); Ameling (2004) dates this to the second half of the second century. Interaction and Integration 127 Th e Judean couple of this epitaph is following the standard form of burial inscriptions at Hierapolis, providing for fi nes to be paid for violation, in this case to a local association to which they presumably belonged. A second inscription refers to the “sett lement” (κατοικίᾳ) of Judeans in Hierapolis:

Th is grave and the surrounding place belong to Aurelia Augusta, daughter of Zotikos. In it she, her husband, who is called Glykonianos, also known as Hag- nos, and their children will be buried. But if anyone else is buried here, the viola- tor will pay a fi ne of 300 denaria to the sett lement of the Judeans who are sett led in Hierapolis (τῇ κατοικίᾳ τῶν ἐν Ἱεραπόλει κατοικούντων Ἰουδαί|ων) and 100 denaria to the one who found out about the violation. A copy of this inscription was placed in the archives of the Judeans (IHierapMir 16 = IJO II 205; mid- to late second cent. ce).14

Here the group is described with terminology that is commonly used by ethnically based associations. Th is is especially well att ested in the case of associations of Romans (οἱ κατοικοῦντες Ρωμαῖοι), such as the “sett lement” of Romans that existed at nearby Phrygian Apameia (northeast of Hierapolis) from the fi rst to the third century, at least.15 Th is suggests that “Judeans” or “those from Judea”—with intertwined geographic, ethnic, and cultural implications—is the best way to translate the term here, as elsewhere. Th e seemingly redundant “sett lement of Judeans who are sett led in Hierapolis” also further suggests this sense of sett led immigrants originally from elsewhere, involving migration either in this generation or some previous generation. Th is inscription includes the common provision for storage of a copy of the inscription, but in this case this is expressly the archives “of the Judeans” rather than the civic archives. Use of the civic archives was the norm in other Judean (and non-Judean) inscriptions. Th is particular grave suggests a well-established Judean group (by the mid to late second century), such that it would begin to maintain its own archives for a time in imita- tion of the civic model. One face (side b) of a third inscription, now published for the fi rst time by Miranda, refers to a group of Judeans as “the most holy synagogue”:

(Side a) Th e grave, the burial ground beneath it, and the area around it belong to Niko- timos Lykidas, son of Artemisios. In it he has buried Apphia, his wife. A copy of this inscription was placed into the archives (τὸ ἀρχεῖον). Judean (Ἰουδαηκή).

(Side b) Th e grave and the place around it belong to Aur. Heortasios Julianus, Tripolitan, Judean, now living in Hierapolis (Τριπολείτου Ἰουδέου, νοῖν οἰκο<ῦ>ντ[ος] | ἐν

14. Trans. mine. Th is rough date is once again based on the presence of the gentilicium Aure- lius. 15. IGR IV 785–86, 788–91, 793–94; MAMA VI 177 (ca. 65–69 ce), 183. Cf. CIG 2287 (Athen- ians on Delos) and OGIS 595 = CIG 5853 (Tyrian merchants at Puteoli). 128 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Εἱεραπόλι [sic]). In it he and his wife, Glykonis, will be buried, and let their children be buried here as well. It is not lawful for anyone other to be buried in it. If someone does such things, he will pay two silver coins to the most holy synagogue (τῇ ἁγιωτά|τῃ συναγωγῇ) (IHierapMir 14 = IJO II 191; side a, late second century ce; side b, third or fourth cent. ce).16

Th e earlier of the two sides of the monument (side a) mentions only that the family members buried there were “Judean,” and does not mention a community. Th e reverse of the original inscription (side b) pertains to a family of Judeans whose relation to those buried earlier is unclear. Th e family’s identifi cation of Aur.Heortasios Julianus as both “Tripolitan” and “Judean,” alongside his current status as a sett ler in Hierapolis, illustrates the potential for multiple social and ethnic identities. I return to this at various points in this study, particularly in connection with Glykon below and in chapter 7. Th is man was a previous inhabitant, or perhaps citizen, of nearby Tripolis.17 Th e family assigns any potential fi nes to “the most holy synagogue.” Th e descriptive term “most holy” (ἁγιοτατ-) and its synonyms are common self-designations among associations and civic bodies in Asia Minor and in Hierapolis specifi cally, which suggests other dimensions of acculturation to local custom on the part of this gathering of Judeans.18 Overall, then, the evidence from Hierapolis indicates that there was a notable number of Judeans living in this city in the period from the mid-second to the third or fourth century who openly identifi ed themselves as such on their family tombs. Th rough the acci- dents of survival and discovery, we happen to encounter about twenty or so families who felt it was important to express Judean aspects of their identities in this way (two of them decorating their graves with a menorah or other related symbols). Th ere was at least one ongoing gathering or association of Judeans, though few families chose to mention such an association on their epitaphs. By the late second century, an association of Judeans was organized enough to have its own archives. Still many of the known Judean epitaphs generally follow local custom in having copies of the inscription placed in, and/or fi nes for violation payable to, civic institutions of Hierapolis.

The Family Tomb of P. Aelius Glykon and Aurelia Amia

One epitaph at Hierapolis does not explicitly use the term “Judean,” nor does it refer to an established Judean association. Instead, it clearly indicates Judean connections by referring

16. Miranda’s (1999a, 125) dating depends primarily on the forms of the lett ering in relation to other dated monuments at Hierapolis. Ameling (2004, 408) proposes that side b may date from the fourth century based on the use of litra, which Robert (1946, 106) suggested was characteristic of the fourth or fi hft centuries. 17. Although likely the local Tripolis (cf. IHierapPenn 22), there are known cities of the same name in Pontus, in Syria, and in North Africa. Cf. Leon 1995 [1960], 153–54, 240 (Tripolitan synagogue at Rome). 18. Cf. IHierapJ 40, 41, 342; IHierapPenn 25. Interaction and Integration 129

Figure 15. Grave of P. Aelius Glykon and Aurelia Amia, involving guilds of carpet-weavers and purple-dyers (IHierapMir 23 = IJO II 196) to holy days, or festivals. Th e family grave of P. Aelius Glykon and Aurelia Amia dates to the late second or early third century of our era, based on the wife’s family name, Aurelia, and the forms of the lett ering.19 As shown in fi gure 15, this is a limestone sarcophagus (with a partially damaged lid) inscribed on its long side (facing northwest). 20 It is located in the southeastern necropolis of Hierapolis near the remains of the Martyrium of St. Philip, with no other surviving graves in its immediate vicinity. Tullia Ritt i’s rediscovery and thorough new reading of the inscription, which was fi rst inadequately published in 1868, has signifi - cantly fi lled in previous gaps, including the important reference to the feast of Kalends in lines 9–10 and to the name of Glykon’s wife.21 Th e inscription provides important evidence regarding cultural identities and the nature of Judean interactions with others in the Greek city. It reads as follows:

19. Cf. Ritt i 1992–93, 48; Miranda 1999a, 132; Ameling 2004, 416. 20. Measurements: Bott om: approx. 239 cm long, 93 cm tall, and 135 cm wide. Lid: approx. 74 cm tall at its high point. Lett ering: approx. 4 cm. Th e sarcophagus is located at the beginning point of the main gap between two hills near where the main walkway to the Martyrium of St. Philip (now) ends and the staircase ascending to the martyrium begins. 21. Previously partial or undocumented were line 1, much of line 2, lines 9–10, part of line 11, and line 13. For a list of publications of the original reading (= CIJ 777), which followed and corrected Wagener 1868, 1 (=Wagener 1873, 379–80.), see Ritt i 1992–93, or Miranda 1999a, 131–32, no. 23. New reading: Ritt i 1992–93; AE (1994), no. 1660; SEG 46 (1996), no. 1656; Labarre and Le Dinahet 1996, 102–3, no. 62; Miranda 1999b, 58–59, no. 23, and Miranda 1999a, 131–32, no. 23; Ditt mann-Schöne 2000, 226–27, no. V.5.10; IJO II 196 (Ameling 2004). 130 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Th is grave and the burial ground beneath it together with the surrounding place belong to Publius Aelius Glykon Zeuxianos Aelianus22 and to Aurelia Amia, daughter of Amianos Seleukos. In it he will bury himself, his wife, and his children, but no one else is permitt ed to be buried here. He left behind 200 denaria for the grave-crowning ceremony to the most holy presidency of the purple-dyers (τῇ σεμνοτάτῃ προεδρίᾳ τῶν πορφυραβάφων στεφα|νωτικο[ῦ]), so that it would produce from the interest enough for each to take a share in the seventh month during the festival of Unleavened Bread (τῇ ἑορτῇ τῶν ἀζύμων). Likewise he also left behind 150 denaria for the grave-crowning ceremony to the sanhedrin of carpet-weavers (τῷ συνε|δρίῳ τῶν ἀκαιροδαπισ<τ>ῶν), so that the revenues from the interest should be distributed, half during the festival of Kalends (τῇ ἑορτῇ τῶν καλανδῶν) on eighth day of the fourth month and half during the festival of Pentecost (τῇ ἑορτῇ τῆς πεντηκοστῆς). A copy of this inscription was placed in the archives (Ritt i 1992–93 [published 1996] = IHierapMir 23 = IJO II 196, revis- ing CIJ 777; see note for full Greek text).23

Judean Aspects of Identity

Th e request that customary grave ceremonies be held on two Judean holidays clearly points to this family’s identifi cation with Judean cultural ways. Glykon has consciously made a decision that his death (and that of his family members) be commemorated indefi nitely on the feasts of Unleavened Bread (in the month of Nisan [March-April]) and on Pentecost (the spring harvest festival), two of the most important Judean festivals.24 Th e inscription nowhere identifi es the owner (Glykon) as “Judean,” as do some other Judean epitaphs at Hierapolis, but this would be unnecessary in light of the explicit mention of Judean holy days.25 Th ere is the question, then, of whether Glykon and his family descend from immigrants from Judea (or themselves migrated from Judea) or whether they were gentiles who adopted Judean practices (“Judaizers” as they are sometimes labelled in the literature) and then arranged that others (guild members) also engaged in these practices aft er their deaths. We cannot know for sure. As Ritt i notes, seemingly “non-Judean” elements in the inscription which entail local or Roman practices, including the grave-crowning cere-

22. Or, possibly: “P. Aelius Glykon, son of Zeuxis Aelianus” (cf. Ameling 2004, 416). 23. [ἠ] σορὸς καὶ τὸ ὑπὸ αὐτὴν θέμα σὺν τῷ βαθρικῷ καὶ τῷ περικειμένῳ τό|πῳ Ποπλίου Αἰλίου Γλύκωνος Ζευξιανοῦ Αἰλια[νοῦ καὶ Αὐ]ρηλίας Ἀμίας | Ἀμιανοῦ τοῦ Σελεύκου, ἐν ᾗ κηδευθήσεται αὐτὸς καὶ ἡ γυνὴ αὐτοῦ | καὶ τὰ τέκνα αὐτῶν, ἑτέρῳ δὲ οὐδενὶ ἐξέσται κηδευθῆναι. Κατέλι|ψεν δὲ [κα]ὶ τῇ σεμνοτάτῃ προεδρίᾳ τῶν πορφυραβάφων στεφα|νωτικο[ῦ] (δηνάρια) διακόσια πρὸς τὸ δίδοσθαι ἀπὸ τῶν τόκων ἑκάστῳ τὸ | αἱροῦν μη(νὸς) ζ' ἐν τῇ ἑορτῇ τῶν ἀζύμων. ὁμοίως κατέλιπεν καὶ τῷ συνε|δρίῳ τῶν ἀκαιροδαπισ<τ>ῶν στεφανωτικοῦ (δηνάρια) ἑκατὸν πεντήκοντα, ἃτι| vac. να καὶ αὐτοι δώσουσι ἐκ τοῦ τόκου | διαμερίσαντες τὸ ἥμισυ ἐν τῇ ἑορτῇ τῶν καλανδῶν, μη(νὸς) δ', η', καὶ τὸ ἥμισυ ἐν τῇ ἑορτῇ τῆς πεντηκοστῆς. | ταύτης τῆς ἐπιγραφῆς τὸ ἀντίγραφον ἀπε<τέ>θη ἐν τοῖς ἀρχείοις. 24. See Barclay 1996, 415–16, on Judean festivals in the diaspora. Cf. Josephus Ant. 14.256–58 and 16.45; Reynolds 1977, 244–45, no. 17 (feast of Tabernacles at Berenike, Cyrenaica, ca. 24 ce). 25. Cf. Ritt i 1992–93, 59. Interaction and Integration 131 monies and the celebration of the Roman New Year, can readily be understood within the framework of a Judean family well adapted to life in Greco-Roman Hierapolis.26 In this chapter, I approach the inscription with this Judean immigrant status as the principle working hypothesis. Th is is not to discount the possibility that Glykon and his family were gentiles with a signifi cant level of involvement in Judean practices, along the lines of the “god-fearers” in Aphrodisias in the fourth century (IJO II 14).27 Shaye J. D. Cohen (1989) surveys a range of possibilities for gentiles’ interactions with Judeans (“Jews” in his terms) or with the Judean God, ranging from admiring some aspect of Judean cultural ways, to participating in certain Judean practices, to full adoption of Judean ways (including circumcision). He helpfully distinguishes between the potential participation of gentiles in certain Judean practices, such as festivals, and gentiles who recognize the God of the Judeans to the exclusion of all other gods, which may be relevant to the discussion further below of membership in the guilds. In the event that Glykon was a gentile adopting Judean practices and then arranging for others to participate in some way in the Judean festivals, then we would be witnessing signs of enculturation into the Judean minority group on the part of a non-Judean rather than acculturation of Judeans to local or Greco-Roman ways.28 Th e problem is that, unlike the case of the “god-fearers” att ested in an inscription from Aphrodisias, nothing in the Glykon inscription itself provides a basis for building a solid case that Glykon or his family was gentile rather than Judean.29 Although there is no clear evidence that Glykon was a gentile, there is indeed cor- roborating evidence that some members of the purple-dyers’ guild mentioned in this inscription were gentiles. Th e discussion here explores multiple and intertwined facets of identities in the case of this family and the purple-dyers’ guild. In the conclusion, I return to the implications for acculturation depending on whether Glykon was a Judean or a gentile adopting Judean cultural customs.

Roman Facets of Identity and the Feast of Kalends

Alongside this family’s clear identifi cation with Judean cultural ways are various signs of intertwined Hierapolitan, Hellenistic, and Roman elements, which I explore now. As previous chapters show, Judean identities were by no means incompatible with a sense of belonging within cities in the Greco-Roman world. Before considering indications of assimilation to local cultural life in Hierapolis, which inevitably also involves intertwined Roman elements, it is important to note Roman aspects of identity specifi cally. First, P. Aelius Glykon’s name indicates that he is a Roman citizen. If the inscription predates or immediately follows the universal grant of citizenship in 212 ce (Constitutio

26. Ritt i 1992–93, 59–60. 27. On the fourth- or fi h-centuryft dating, now see Chaniotis 2002, 209–42. 28. On possible cases of gentile judaizing in Asia Minor and Syria based on Christian literary evidence, see Murray 2004. 29. On the diffi culties in identifying inscriptions as Judean, Christian, or pagan, see Kraemer 1989; Williams 1997; Ameling 2004, 16–20. Miranda (1999a, 144–45) is att racted by the hypothesis that Glykon was a “Jewish sympathizer” but admits the diffi culties here. 132 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Antoniniana), as most suggest, then Glykon’s choice to include his tria nomina (three names = praenomen, nomen, and cognomen) indicates some sense of pride in possess- ing the status of Roman citizen.30 It is possible that Glykon or his ancestors were formerly slaves who gained Roman citizenship upon manumission, though there is nothing in the inscription or from other sources relating to Hierapolis that would confi rm that. With regard to this man’s cognomen or personal name, Glykon, it is worth mentioning that personal names with the root Glyk- (“sweet”) are very common in Hierapolis and Phrygia generally, and that this was likewise quite common among Judeans at Hierapolis, including those mentioned on some other Judean graves at Hierapolis.31 Th is may well point to Glykon’s place of birth as Hierapolis or somewhere else in Phrygia, suggesting that he is not a fi rst generation immigrant. So even this man’s name indicates Roman and Hierapolitan or Phrygian dimensions of his identities. Beyond Roman citizenship, we lack clear indications of Glykon’s social-economic status within Hierapolis. Still, it is worth mentioning that most monuments in which a family provides a foundation to a local association or guild to perform grave ceremonies, the deceased (or deceased-to-be) was a Roman citizen with some degree of wealth. Glykon’s total amount of 350 denaria (200 plus 150) for the grave-crowning ceremonies (στεφανωτικόν) is greater than, yet comparable to, the case of Aurelius Zotikos Epikratos, who gave 150 denaria to the guild (συντεχνίᾳ) of nail-workers (IHierapJ 133). On the other hand, Glykon’s foundation is less than Publius Aelius Hermogenes’ substantial grant of 1,000 denaria to the guild of dyers (IHierapJ 195). Tiberius Claudius Kleon, whose position as high-priest suggests he is among the civic elites,32 donated the largest att ested amount for a grave-crowning ceremony at Hierapolis, granting the sum 2,500 denaria to the civic elders’ organization (IHierapJ 234). So Glykon is among many other Roman citizens there, some of higher and others of lower social-economic or civic status. We do not know whether he was a citizen of Hierapolis and, if so, whether he was among the civic elites who assumed important offi ces. A second, more signifi cant sign of Roman cultural ways has been revealed only with the new edition of the epitaph. Glykon chooses to have his family remembered not only on principal Judean holidays, but also on the feast of Kalends, the Roman New Year celebration (held in January). Glykon leaves funds (150 denaria) to the sanhedrin of carpet- weavers, specifying that half of the proceeds from the foundation be used during the feast of Kalends and half during Pentecost. It is important to say a few words regarding this Roman New Year festival to assess

30. Of the twenty-three Judean epitaphs at Hierapolis, sixteen (including the Glykon inscription) provide a name that suggests Roman citizenship, and fi ve of these are dated to the post–212 ce era by Miranda. Eleven are potentially cases of Judeans with Roman citizenship before the universal grant (mainly in the late second or early third cent. ce). 31. See IHierapMir 5, 11, 14, and 16 (cited earlier). See Miranda’s discussion of onomastics among Judeans at Hierapolis (Miranda 1999a, 136–40). 32. Compare the high-priest Tiberius Claudius Zotikos Boa, who also held other important civic offi ces or liturgies including στρατηγός (“general”), ἀγωνοθέτης (“festival organizer”) and πρεσβευτής (“elder”). He was honoured by both the “most sacred guild of wool-cleaners” and the “most sacred guild of purple-dyers” on two separate monuments (IHierapJ 40, 41; probably third century). Interaction and Integration 133 its signifi cance here at Hierapolis. eTh sparseness of our evidence for the celebration of this particular Roman festival in Asia Minor makes the Glykon inscription all the more relevant to issues of provincial cultural exchanges in relation to Roman cultural practices (“Romanization,” to use the traditional term).33 Michel Meslin’s study of the festival emphasizes two complementary dimensions: the offi cial (“civic”) and the unoffi cial (“private,” in his terms).34 Th e offi cial side of the festival was focussed on vows for the well-being of Rome and its empire as one year ended and the new began. Pliny the Younger provides some limited evidence that this aspect of the festival was celebrated in northern Asia Minor (Bithynia and Pontus) by the early second century (Pliny Ep. 10.35–36, 100–101; cf. Sueto- nius Nero 46.4). Th e Glykon inscription now confi rms the continuing adoption of this festival in another area of Asia Minor a number of decades later. Th ere were also unoffi cial dimensions to the Roman New Year festival, which would likely be of greater relevance to the situation within a local guild at Hierapolis. Th ese informal celebrations were “anchored in the collective psyche of the Romans” and charged with social and cultic signifi cance, as Meslin puts it.35 Although the festival originally focussed its att ention on the old Italian god Janus (two-faced protector of doors), its signifi cance expanded beyond this focus. Ovid’s famous poetic tribute to the Roman festivals (the Fasti), writt en in honour of Augustus, emphasizes the exchanges of “good wishes” and gift s which accompanied the celebration, including “sweet” gift s (e.g., dates, fi gs, honey), as well as cash, indicating an omen of a sweet year to come (Ovid Fasti 1.171–94). Ovid also alludes to the common practice of workers dedicating their occupational activities in connection with the commencement of the new year (Fasti 1.169–70), which may be of relevance to workers such as the carpet-weavers at Hierapolis. A statement by Herodian, a third-century Greek historian, confi rms the importance of “exchanging friendly greetings and giving each other the pleasure of interchanging gift s” (Herodian Hist. 1.16.2). If Tertullian’s negative assessment of Christians participating in New Year’s gift giving as “idolatry” is any indication, the exchange of gift s (strenae) specifi cally remained prominent as the festival made its way into the provinces, at least in regions such as North Africa around the turn of the third century.36 It is likely these social aspects of celebrating the end of the old year and the beginning of the new, exchanging positive wishes and gift s, remained the focus of att ention in many sett ings, including this case at Hierapolis. Not surprisingly, diaspora Judean att itudes and practices in relation to such festivals could extend beyond the views expressed in rabbinic writings (in the Abodah Zarah tractates).37 Rabbinic sources simply assume that Judeans

33. Beginning in about 9 bce and continuing at least into the second century, another new year’s celebration was held in the province of Roman Asia on the birthday of Augustus (September 23), and associations were sometimes involved in those celebrations (IPergamon 374; and IEph 3801). See Price 1984, 54–55; Harland 2003a, 94–95, 102. 34. For the following see Meslin (1970, 23–50) and Nilsson (1916–19, 54–55), who also notes the involvement of collegia in the celebrations. 35. Meslin 1970, 23 (trans. from the French is mine). 36. Tertullian On Idolatry 10 and 14; cf. On Military Crowns 12.3; Apology 35.7. On gift s (strenae) see Suetonius Augustus 57, Tiberius 34, Caligula 42. 37. Compare Tessa Rajak’s (2002 [1985], 358–62) discussion of diaspora Judeans and Greco- Roman festivals, although she did not have this case available to her. 134 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians should distance themselves from any relation to major gentile festivals, including Kalends specifi cally.38

Funerary Practices and Associations in Asia Minor

Th e nature of this family’s acculturation to local funerary customs can be bett er understood in relation to other Judeans in the city and in relation to other (non-Judean) Hiera- politans who involved guilds in funerary provisions. Glykon’s choice to include guilds in funerary commemorations on Judean and Roman festivals excluded—whether incidentally or not—the local Judean association from any direct relation to the burial and upkeep of the family grave. Glykon was certainly not alone in failing to even mention the local Judean association on his epitaph, however. Many other known Judean and non-Judean epitaphs make no mention of any local association or synagogue with which the family was affi liated. A discussion of funerary involvements among associations (including Judean groups) in western Asia Minor will provide important context here, pointing toward common burial customs shared by Judeans (or possibly gentile “Judaizers”) such as Glykon and his family.39 Th ere were three main ways in which guilds and other associations participated in grave-related activities. First, associations could play a role in the burial of their members, sometimes collecting ongoing fees for later use in funerary related expenses (actual burial or funerary banquets, for instance).40 Local custom varied in the details and in the importance of this role, however. Th ere is limited evidence that associations in some regions of Asia Minor might also have their own collective tomb or burial plot for this purpose. Th is was the case with the guild of fl ax-workers at Smyrna, who received a vault as a donation, and the guild of bed-builders at Ephesos, who dedicated a common burial plot.41 As with associations generally, it seems that collective burial by association was not the norm among Judeans in the diaspora. Instead, the shared family tomb was common among both Judeans and non-Judeans in Asia Minor (including those who happened to belong to an association). Still, there is one clear Judean example of collective burial from Tlos in Lycia (in southern Asia Minor) that should be mentioned. Th ere a man named Ptolemais adopted this local, Tlosian practice by preparing a common burial area (ἡρῷον) for his son and for “all the Judeans” (fi rst century ce).42 Th is inscription plays a role in a recent debate regarding how common were such collective “Judean cemeteries” in the fi rst two centuries (before the catacombs of Rome). J. H. M. Strubbe draws on the clear Tlos case to argue for the commonality of collective Judean grave plots in Asia Minor (using other less solid evidence

38. Cf. Hadas-Lebel 1979, 426–41; y. Abod. Zar. 1.1, II.E; b. Abod. Zar. 1.3. 39. On funerary practices, see Strubbe 1991, 1994, and 1997. On the role of associations in the Greek East see, for example, van Nijf 1997, 31–69, and Ditt mann-Schöne 2000, 82–93. 40. Cf. Artemidoros Oneir. 5.82. 41. ISmyrna 218; IEph 2213; IKilikiaBM II 190–202; IKos 155–59; Fraser 1977, 58–70. Also see van Nijf 1997, 43–49. 42. IJO II 223 = CIJ 757 = TAM II 612. Interaction and Integration 135 along the way).43 On the other hand, David Noy argues that “the existence of separate Jew- ish burial areas before the catacombs seems on the whole fairly unlikely.”44 I would suggest that forms of Judean burial would be dependent on variations in local practice among associations and, in fact, at least two epitaphs from Tlos appear to confi rm this point. Like the Judean epitaph, they involve a collective burial area (ἡρῷον). Each lists names (with no mention of familial relation among the names) of those who are to be buried within it, likely members of associations (TAM II 604 and 615). Margaret H. Williams makes similar observations regarding local variations in how specifi c Judean families adopted burial practices from the local (“gentile”) populations, which varied from one locale to the next.45 Having noted this role of associations in the burial of individual members and a few cases of common burial by association, it is important to point out that there are many epitaphs that simply do not refer to such groups at all. So the Judeans at Hierapolis who failed to mention any affi liation with a Judean association or who did not involve a local guild in funerary arrangements there are not out of the ordinary in this respect. A second funerary role involves associations being named as recipients of fi nes for any violation of the grave alongside other civic institutions (e.g., civic treasury, council, people, elders’ organization), or alone. Several guilds at Kyzikos are designated as recipients of any fi nes for violation of the grave, for instance, and a similar picture emerges at Smyrna. Th ere two diff erent families chose an association of porters who worked in the harbour.46 So in some ways the synagogue leader at Smyrna in the second or third century (a woman named Rufi na) was following local custom when she made fi nes for violation of her household’s grave payable to the “most sacred treasury” of Smyrna (1,500 denaria) and to an association (1,000 denaria), in this case the “people” (ἔθνος, ethnos) of the Judeans of which she was a leader or benefactor.47 A third area of funerary involvement on the part of associations in Asia Minor entails groups being designated recipients of a foundation that made them responsible for visiting and maintaining the grave, including yearly (or more frequent) ceremonies at the site.48 It was not necessarily the case that the owner of the grave was a member of the association in question, as cases involving multiple guilds also suggest (e.g., IHierapJ 133, 227). It seems that the more important factor in decision making (on the part of the deceased-to-be or family members of the deceased) concerned choosing a group that could indeed be trusted to help protect the grave and fulfi ll other obligations, and sometimes this was a group to which a family member belonged. Several inscriptions from Ephesos illustrate this function of associations, for instance. In one fi rst-century epitaph, a silversmithand his wife designate the “sanhedrin” of

43. Strubbe 1994, 101–2. 44. Noy 1998, 81. 45. Williams 1994b, 173–74. 46. IKyzikos 97, 211, 291 (marble-workers, clothing-cleaners, and porters); ISmyrna 204, 205; cf. IAlexTroas 122 (coppersmiths, second cent. ce), 151–52 (porters). 47. ISmyrna 295 = IJO II 43 = CIJ 741. Cf. IJO II 154, 157 (Nikomedia, third cent. ce). It is worth mentioning that the self-designation ἔθνος is also used by other guilds and associations (e.g., PKöln 260, line 3; second cent. bce). 48. On grave visitation, see Garland 2001, 104–20. On Roman burial practices, see Toynbee 1971, 61–64. On crowns, see Goodenough 1953–68, 7.148–71. 136 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians silversmiths as recipient for any fi nes, but they also leave behind specifi c funds so that the group can “take care of” (κήδεται) the grave site (IEph 2212).49 In another, a physician and his wife leave behind an endowment for the “sanhedrin of physicians in Ephesos who meet in the museum” (μουσεῖον) to take care of the grave (IEph 2304). Quite important for present purposes regarding interaction and acculturation is the family epitaph of a chief physician at Ephesos (named Julius), who asked that “the Judeans in Ephesos” (not the sanhedrin of physicians) maintain the tomb.50 It is unclear as to whether Julius was a Judean or not. Either way, Judeans are participating in local customs in places like Ephesos. Along similar lines, a devotee of the Judean God (either a Judean or a Christian) in third-century Akmoneia donated several tools to “the neighbourhood of those near the fi rst gateway” (IJO II 171).51 He did so on condition that this neighbourhood association yearly decorated his wife’s grave with roses (ῥοδίσαι), most likely performing the Roman ceremony of rosalia, which oft en included a banquet.52 Th is off ers an interesting parallel to Glykon’s request to have grave-crowning ceremonies held on the Roman New Year, led by the carpet-weavers’ association.53 In both cases a traditionally Roman festival is adapted to local custom (involving associations) by families devoted to the Judean God, presumably omitt ing practices that would evoke honours for other deities (namely, sacrifi ce).

Guilds at Hierapolis and the Purple-dyers’ Identities

Turning to Hierapolis specifi cally, it is important to give some sense of what role the guilds played in funerary practices there, which will then shed more light on the signifi cance of Glykon’s decision to include guilds (and the purple-dyers in particular) in his bequest. Of the sixteen extant inscriptions that refer to occupational associations at Hierapolis, ten

49. Cf. IEph 2402 (pott ers), 2446 (linen-workers). 50. IEph 1677 = IJO II 32 = CIJ 745 (second cent. ce). See IEurJud I 76 from Venosa for another Judean chief physician. 51. Th e inscription uses the so-called Eumeneian formula, which stipulates that violators will have “to reckon with the justice of God.” Th e formula is now known to be used by both Judeans and Christians, contrary to Ramsay’s (1895–97, 520) claim of Christian identifi cation. Robert (1960b, 409–12) thought that the owner of the grave was probably Judean, based on the “Semitic” name of the man (Math[i]os) who sold the plot to Aur. Aristeas (assuming that they were “co-religionists”) and on the absence of other evidence of Christians in third-century Akmoneia (cf. Trebilco 1991, 78–80; Strubbe 1994, 72–73). For Judeans at Akmoneia, see IJO II 168–78. For Christians, see MAMA VI 336. 52. On associations and the rosalia festival in the Greek East, see IG X.2 260; Dimitsas 1896, no. 920; CIL III 703, 704, 707 (from Macedonia); IPergamon 374B; CIG 3874; IKlaudiupolis 115; INikaia 62, 95, 1283, 1422; SEG 49 (1999), no. 1790 and 2508 (from Asia Minor). Cf. Perdrizet 1900, 299–323; Trebilco 1991, 80–81. On collegia in the Latin West see Toynbee 1971, 61–64; Latt imore 1962, 137–41 (cf. CIL V 2090, 2176, 2315, 4015, 4017, 4448). 53. On the use of crown symbolism in Judean art, architecture, and literature, see Goodenough 1953–68, 7.149–52. For Judean adaptation of granting crowns as a form of honour for living benefactors, see IJO II 36 (Phokaia or Kyme; third cent. ce) and Bruneau 1982, 465–504; NewDocs VIII 12 (Samaritans on Delos; second-fi rst bce). Interaction and Integration 137 are epitaphs, and six of these expressly involve a guild or guilds in some ongoing grave ceremonies or superintendence of the grave (including the Glykon inscription). Most of these (four) involve the local practice of providing “funds for the grave-crowning” (στεφανωτικό ν), which in this form of expression seems peculiar to the Lycos valley, primarily Hierapolis.54 Another refers to the responsibility of a guild—purple-dyers or, if they fail, the livestock dealers—in “burning the incense (τῶν παπων) on the customary day” (IHierapJ 227b; ca. 190–250 ce). Furthermore, fi ve of the ten epitaphs also mention guilds as recipients of any fi nes for violation of the grave.55 Since there are cases involving several guilds on one epitaph, in all there are a total of ten guilds mentioned in connection with funerary arrangements in the extant monuments of Hierapolis: dyers, nail-workers, coppersmiths, purple-dyers, livestock dealers, water- mill engineers, farmers, wool-cleaners, carpet-weavers, and an unknown “guild.” Th e association of purple-dyers, in particular, stands out prominently as a favourite in the funerary monuments that have survived to us, appearing as recipients of fi nes or bequests for visitation ceremonies on nearly half (four out of ten) of the grave inscriptions involving guilds, including the Glykon family grave itself.56 Th e fact that a family devoted to the Judean God specifi cally chose to call on the services of the purple-dyers, as well as the carpet-weavers (a guild known only from the Glykon inscription), begs a question regarding the composition of these guilds and the ethnic identities of guild members. Th is issue is important in evaluating possibilities regarding dynamics of assimilation and interaction here. Scholarly discussions of this inscription, including many based on the earlier reading, which lacked the reference to Kalends, address the question of whether the guilds were (1) solely Judean, (2) solely non- Judean (gentile), or (3) a mixture of both. Seldom do these scholarly discussions make reference to other epigraphical evidence for the purple-dyers at Hierapolis, however. Such evidence shows that for the purple-dyers, at least, the fi rst option is untenable, the second plausible, and the third most likely. Erich Ziebarth was among the fi rst to suggest that these two guilds were solely Judean in membership, and other scholars have followed suit, including William Ramsay and Shi- mon Applebaum.57 Most recently, Miranda suggests that the purple-dyers, at least, were solely Judean, based on the fact that Glykon chose to have the purple-dyers provide their services only on a Judean holiday. Th e bequest to the carpet-weavers, however, involves both a Roman and a Judean holiday, refl ecting Glykon’s choice of separate holidays for the gentile and Judean members of that mixed group, in Miranda’s view.58 However, the Glykon inscription does not give any clear indication that either of these guilds were distinctively Judean, nor that they stood out from other such groups in Hierapolis. More important, a good number of inscriptions (seven in all) concerning purple- dyers at Hierapolis in this period (mid-second to early third centuries) show that, rather

54. IHierapJ 50, 195; IHierapPenn 45; IHierapMir 23 = IHierapJ 342. On this local ceremony, see Judeich’s notes to IHierapJ 195, as well as IHierapJ 133, 153, 209, 234, 270, 278, 293, 310, 336 (cf. ILaodikeia 84, 85). 55. IHierapJ 218; IHierapPenn 7, 23, 25, 45. 56. IHierapJ 133, 227; IHierapPenn 23 and IHierapMir 23 = IHierapJ 342. 57. Ziebarth 1896, 129; Ramsay 1900, 81, and Ramsay 1902, 98–101; Applebaum 1974b, 480–83. 58. Miranda 1999a, 140–45. 138 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians than being distinctively Judean, this guild consisted principally of gentiles (at the points we have any evidence for them) and were viewed as a typical guild in the community.59 Th us, for instance, the purple-dyers (ἡ τέχνη τῶν πορφυραβά[φων]) joined with the city (polis) in about 209 ce to dedicate a portion of the theatre (two levels of the architrave) to Apollo Archegetes (“the Founder”), to other gods of the homeland, and to the emperors Septimius Severus and Caracalla.60 And beyond the Glykon inscription, none of the other four families who included the purple-dyers (or its leadership, “the board of presidents of the purple-dyers”) in funerary arrangements expressly indicates any Judean connections regarding either the family who owned the grave or the guild(s) in question, which goes by various titles at diff erent points.61 When the “sacred guild of purple-dyers” (ἡ σεμνοτάτη ἐργα|σία τῶν πορφορα|βάφων) set up its own honorary monuments for civic and imperial offi cials, once again there is no indication that they were distinctively Judean in composition.62 It is certainly possible, however, that the guild included Judeans in its membership when such honorary activities took place (the membership would no doubt change over generations), especially in light of evidence from elsewhere concerning Judeans’ interactions with imperial-connected individuals who were not Judean.63 So, although we cannot necessarily assume that members in the purple-dyers were solely non-Judeans (gentiles), we do know that they were not solely Judeans during the era of the Glykon inscription. In light of this, there are two main possibilities regarding the composition of these guilds. In either case this is evidence not only for the participation and integration of Judeans in civic life but also for Judean affi liations with, or memberships in, local occupational associations at Hierapolis. On the one hand, if the guild was composed exclusively of gentiles, as Judeich and Conrad Cichorius suggested early on, this is a Judean (or gentile “Judaizer”) following burial conventions of non-Judeans in Hierapolis (and Asia generally) by including guilds in funerary provisions.64 In this case, the reason for Glykon’s asking these guilds (instead of a Judean group, for instance) to perform the grave rituals would presumably relate to the fact that he had contacts with purple-dyers and carpet-weavers

59. Cf. Judeich 1898, 174; Ritt i 1992–93, 66–67. Th ere are slight variations in the terminology used in reference to the purple-dyers (see n. 60). Th e purple-dyers are to be distinguished from the “dyers” (βαφεῖς), however, who formed a separate guild (IHierapJ 50 and 195). 60. Ritt i 1985, 108–13. 61. IHierapJ 133 (designated simply τῶν πορ[φυραβάφων); IHierapJ 227b (referring to τῷ συνεδρίῳ | τῆς προεδρίας τῶν πορφυρα|βάφων, “the board of presidency of the purple-dyers”); IHierapPenn 23 (referring to τῇ προεδρίᾳ τῶν πορφυραβάφων, “the presidents of the purple-dyers”). Cf. IHierapJ 156; IHierapPenn 37 (each involving a purple-dealer [πορφυροπώλης] with no Judean connection involved). 62. IHierapJ 42; IHierapJ 41= IGR IV 822 (probably third cent. ce). Th e use of “most sacred” is typical of associations, organizations, and civic bodies when they express their own identities, namely, when the group in question is the one having the monument inscribed (see n. 20; cf. IHierapJ 36, 40). 63. See Harland 2003a, 219–28. 64. Humann, Cichorius, et al. 1898, 46, 51, 174. Interaction and Integration 139 within commercial networks, perhaps as a regular customer, vendor, or benefactor of the guilds.65 What seems even more likely is that, although consisting principally of non-Judeans, at Glykon’s time these two guilds included individual devotees of the Judean God (Judeans, or perhaps gentile “Judaizers” or “Judaizing” Christians),66 who happened to be purple- dyers or carpet-weavers. Paul R. Trebilco is among those who mention this third possibility, yet he is hesitant to take a stand on which of the three options seems most or least likely.67 Suggesting the presence of devotees of the Judean God in the guilds would have the advantage of bett er accounting for Glykon’s request that gentile guilds perform the customary grave ceremony on Judean holidays, and we know that Judeans sometimes did engage in clothing and other related occupations.68 If this is indeed the case, then we can begin to imagine processes whereby ordinary gentiles might become gentile sympathizers or “god-fearers” (such as those at Aphrodisias in the fourth century). For the Glykon family’s choice to corporately involve these guilds in celebrating Judean festivals would involve some gentiles who had litt le or no previous involvement in Judean practices. Social network connections based on common occupation could become the basis of new adherences, in this case perhaps leading to an increase in the number of gentiles with some level of att achment to the Judean God or to Judeans living in Hierapolis.69 In fourth-century Aphrodisias, for instance, several Judeans and “god-fearers” came from occupations related to clothing production or sale (rag-dealer, fuller, boot-maker, linen-worker, and purple-dyer) and, in at least one case, the occupation of a named Judean (a bronzesmith) matches that of two “god-fearers,” who are also bronze smiths (IJO II 14b, lines 25, 46, 53). In chapter 1 I discussed the role of occupational networks in the foundation and growth of associations of various kinds, including some Judean gatherings. If there were Judeans (or “god-fearers”) as members of these guilds at Hierapolis, as I argue, Glykon’s reasons for choosing these two guilds (rather than other known guilds) would involve a combination of factors, including his contacts (for commercial and/or benefaction purposes) with both Judeans and gentiles and his ethnic and cultural affi liations with fellow-Judeans (or at least gentile devotees of the Judean God) in Hierapolis. It is this combination of att achments that makes this third option concerning the mixed

65. It was common for wealthier individuals to call on the funerary-related services of a guild to which they did not belong (see the earlier discussion of Glykon’s socio-economic status). 66. On Christians at Hierapolis, see below. 67. Trebilco 1991, 178–79. Kraabel (1968, 134–35) is among the fi rst to mention this option. Ritt i (1992–93) further explores this possibility and is less hesitant in suggesting that this may be a mixed guild. Miranda (1999a, 141–44) discusses evidence of Judean occupational organizations (in Pales- tine and Alexandria) at some length, and suggests that the purple-dyers were likely Judean and that the carpet-weavers may have been mixed. Th e new edition of Emil Schürer’s work (by Vermes, Millar, and Goodman) states that “the members of the guilds must also have been infl uenced by Judaism” (Schürer 1973–87, 3.27). Cf. AE (1994), no. 1660 on the possibility of theosebeis. 68. Cf. CIJ 787, 873, 929, 931; Acts 16:14–15; 18:2–3. 69. Cf. Reynolds and Tannenbaum 1987, 116–23. Tessa Rajak and David Noy have shown that even those who were designated “synagogue leaders” may have been non-Judean benefactors of Judean groups, for instance. See Rajak and Noy 1993, 75–93; cf. Rajak 2002, 373–91. 140 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians composition of the guild most eff ective in making sense of the evidence. Th e theory that Judeans at Hierapolis maintained affi liations with or memberships in other groups or associations within the city is also consistent with Judean evidence from other areas.70 In cases where we know the occupation of Judeans there is a range of activity comparable to the known guilds, and the fact that occupations are mentioned at all on Judean monuments suggests that this was an important component in their identities.71 So it is not too surprising to fi nd Judeans affi liating with their fellow-workers within occupational networks and guilds. I will return to this important issue of multiple memberships in associations in chapter 7.

Conclusion

Th roughout this chapter I have discussed evidence for members of ethnic or cultural minority groups, namely Judeans at Hierapolis, adopting and adapting to local cultural practices and interacting with their Greek or Roman neighbours in the second and third centuries. Th e case of Hierapolis demonstrates well some dynamics of cultural and structural assimilation, and it is worthwhile placing this evidence within a broader social-scientifi c framework here.72 In the previous chapter I discussed theories of assimilation that help to explain the processes of boundary negotiations that take place when members of two or more cultural groups interact. In particular, it is useful to distinguish between subprocesses of assimilation, the most important here being (1) cultural assimilation, or acculturation, (2) structural assimilation, and (3) dissimilation or cultural maintenance. I have explained each of these in some detail already, but further explanation of the second main subprocess, structural assimilation, is important here in connection with Judeans at Hierapolis. Milton Yinger proposes that structural assimilation entails both informal and formal levels.73 At the informal level, individual members of a given ethnic or cultural group can interact with persons from other cultural groups through personal, social network connections, including memberships in neighbourhoods, clubs, and associations.74 Th e formal level of structural assimilation involves members of a particular cultural minority group participating in political, legal, social, or economic institutions of society. Th ese social-scientifi c insights provide a framework in which to make bett er sense of the ancient evidence—albeit fragmentary—for Judeans and Judean groups at Hierapolis and elsewhere in the empire. Moreover, both the form and content of the Judean epitaphs at Hierapolis illustrate both cultural and structural assimilation. First of all, we have seen that the form of Judean grave inscriptions indicates acculturation to patt erns of other non-

70. See chapter 7 for evidence regarding multiple affi liations among Judeans. 71. See van der Horst 1991, 99–101; Shaye J. D. Cohen 1993, 10; Reynolds and Tannenbaum 1987, 116–23. 72. For others who have drawn on such social-scientifi c insights in studying groups in the ancient context see Balch 1986, 79–101; Barclay 1996; Noy 2000. 73. Yinger 1981; Yinger 1994. Cf. Marger 1991, 117–120. 74. Cf. Yinger 1981, 254; Marger 1991, 118. Interaction and Integration 141 Judean graves from the same locale.75 Moving beyond the form of epitaphs to the content and its implications, it is important to notice somewhat subtle evidence of formal structural assimilation in relation to important institutions of the Greek city (polis). Th e inclusion of formal institutions, usually the civic (“most sacred”) treasury, as recipients of fi nes in many (nine) Judean inscriptions at Hierapolis (and on Judean epitaphs elsewhere) implied some level of civic responsibility for preservation or maintenance of the family tomb.76 Violators would have to answer not only to the descendants of the family, if any, but also to the city of Hierapolis itself, so to speak. Including local associations, alongside civic institutions or alone, was thought to further bolster this insurance that the family grave would remain intact and undisturbed. Th ere are other signs of formal structural assimilation among Judeans here. Like their non-Judean counterparts, nearly half (ten) of the Judean epitaphs from Hierapolis (the Glykon grave included) clearly mention that a copy of the epitaph was placed in the civic archives. Th is, too, has a structural signifi cance beyond its seemingly incidental mention. For placing a copy in the civic archives further ensured that, if anyone should fail to obey the will of the deceased or actually modify (or remove) the original inscription from the tomb, legal action could follow. Th is expectation of justice from relevant civic institutions is a signifi cant indication of structural integration within local society. It is within this context of interaction and acculturation that we can bett er understand the Glykon family grave itself. If, on the one hand, Glykon and his family were gentile sympathizers (or “judaizing” Christians, for instance)77 who had adopted important Judean practices, which is possible though diffi cult to establish, then this provides an interesting case of Greek or Phrygian gentiles’ acculturation to the ways of local Judeans while also continuing in burial customs characteristic of Hierapolis and Asia Minor. Furthermore, the involvement of a guild (the purple-dyers) which did include non-Judeans (gentiles) in its number is suggestive of at least some level of acculturation to Judean practices on the part of these guild members at Hierapolis. Yet here it is the family, not members of the guilds, who have chosen to have the guilds participate on Judean holy days and on a Roman festival. Unlike the case of the “god-fearers” at Aphrodisias, there is no clear indication that the gentile guild-members were members in the synagogue or in an association devoted solely to the Judean God. If, on the other hand, Glykon and his family were from Judea as immigrants or

75. Among these standard inscriptional patt erns (including the common vocabulary used) are: (1) identifi cation of the owner(s) of the tomb and surrounding area; (2) stipulations that no one else, beyond those designated, is to be buried on the site; (3) preventative measures of sett ing fi nes should the instructions be violated; (4) arrangements for payment of such fi nes to civic institutions (treasury or elders’ organization) and/or local associations (e.g., Judean synagogues, guilds); and, (5) deposit of a copy of the inscription in the civic archives. 76. Cf. IJO II 172 (Akmoneia), 216 (Termessos), 233, 238 (Korykos). 77. Literary evidence shows that followers of Jesus lived at Hierapolis already in the fi rst century (Col 4:13) and continued in subsequent centuries (cf. Eusebius HE 3.31.3, 3.36.1–2, 4.26.1). Th e earliest openly Christian inscriptions from Hierapolis date to Byzantine times, when the martyrium associated with Philip was established (cf. IHierapJ 22, 24; fi fth century or later). Att empts by those such as Ramsay to identify other inscriptions as Christian based only on the inscription’s use of “unusual” language are problematic at best (e.g., IHierapJ 227 with notes by Judeich refuting Ramsay’s suggestion of Christianity in that inscription; see Ramsay 1895–97, 118–19, no. 28). 142 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians descendants of immigrants, this inscription provides further evidence of both cultural and structural assimilation among Judean families at Hierapolis. I have shown that the fabric of this family’s identities consisted of intertwined Judean, Roman, and Hierapolitan strands. Most prominently with regard to Judean identity is the concern to have the grave visited on the festivals of Passover and Pentecost. Many Judean families did assert Judean aspects of their identities (in relation to non-Judeans) by using the designation “Judean,” and some did so by including symbols such as the menorah on their grave monuments (IHierapMir 6, 12). In one case, for instance, it seems that connections with the homeland of Judea or Israel were expressed through a concern to have bones returned to “the ancestral land” (ἐκτὸς τοῦ διακομίσαντος ἡμᾶς εἰς τὴν πατρῴ|αν γῆν; IHierapMir 19), a burial practice that is att ested in only a limited number of other diaspora cases.78 Still, the Glykon inscription stands out among the epitaphs of Hierapolis, and even Asia Minor or the empire, in its special concern to carry on Judean customs even aft er death, thereby continuing to express this Judean element of the family’s identities within Hierapolis indefi nitely. At the same time, Glykon felt himself to be Roman in some sense, both in proudly indicating his status as Roman citizen and by choosing to include the Roman New Year festival as a time when the family would be remembered by a guild in Hierapolis. In fact, the rarity of epigraphic evidence concerning the celebration of this Roman festival in the provinces draws further att ention to its signifi cance here as a sign of the adoption of some Roman practices among Judeans, what has traditionally been labeled Romanization. Alongside these Judean and Roman identifications, the family clearly experienced a sense of belonging within the community of Hierapolis specifi cally in many respects. At the formal structural level, this family, like other Judeans, deposited a copy of the inscription in the civic archives, indicating an expectation of some level of justice from local legal procedures and institutions. Furthermore, these Judeans were acculturated to Hierapolitan or Phrygian practice in leaving “grave-crowning funds” and followed regional custom in entrusting their fi nal bequest to occupational associations. Not only that, but the family also chose one of the most popular and, it seems, widely trusted local guilds to fulfi ll this duty. Both Glykon and the devotees of the Judean God who belonged to the guilds of purple-dyers and carpet-weavers further illustrate the potential for multiple affi liations with subgroups of local society. Such involvements in local groups are an important factor in processes of informal structural assimilation. Moreover, information concerning the Glykon family, as well as other Judeans at Hierapolis, points toward signifi cant levels of integration on the part of these Judeans within the society of Greco-Roman Hierapolis alongside a continued sense of belonging with others who gave special att ention to honouring the God of the Judean homeland. Now that we have looked at some cases of integration and positive intergroup relations, we can turn to instances of ethnic and other rivalries among associations in the civic context.

78. On transportation of bones to Jerusalem, see Williams 1998, 75–76; Josephus Ant. 10.94– 95. However, see Tessa Rajak’s discussion of the necropolis at Beth She’arim in the Lower Galilee, which, in her view, was “a glorifi ed local cemetery, whose catchment area happens to be rather large” (including deceased from nearby diaspora locations, including Beirut, Sidon, and Caesarea; Rajak 2002 [1998], 494). Part 4

Group Interactions and Rivalries

Group Rivalries and Multiple Identities

Associations at Sardis and Smyrna

Introduction

Interactions between diff erent groups within society are central to processes of identity formation and reformulation within those groups. In this chapter, monuments and inscriptions from two cities mentioned in John’s Revelation, namely, Sardis and Smyrna, off er a window into the complicated world of group interactions and rivalries in the world of the early Christians. In particular, competition among such associations has important implications for issues of belonging and illustrates how group identities could be expressed in relation to, or over against, other groups. Moreover, the evidence from such locales demonstrates quite clearly that rivalries could encompass various practices, realms of activity (social, cultic, economic, and otherwise), and levels of engagement. While some groups could be more self-consciously competitive than others in specifi c ways, ompetitionc (alongside cooperation) was inherent within civic life in Asia Minor. Virtually all groups took part in this arena in some manner. Associations were contenders for economic support and benefactions and for the honour and prestige that such connections with benefactors entailed. In fact, participation in monumentalizing was one important means by which an association could assert its identity and make claims about its place within society in relation to other groups and institutions. Rivalrous sentiments are also evident in how groups proclaimed their identities in relation to others. Finally, associations were competitors for potential adherents and for the allegiances of members they had. Th e evidence for certain individuals’ affi liations or memberships within various groups draws att ention to the multiple nature of identities. Th e point of this chapter is not to say that rivalries predominated but rather to examine what signifi cance areas of competition had for issues of identity. Cooperation and positive intergroup relations were also an element in association life generally. In fact, multiple affi liations, for example, may both indicate competition for allegiances and illustrate the somewhat permeable boundaries that could exist between diff erent associations, such that a person might in some cases comfortably belong within more than one group at a time.

145 146 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Associations at Sardis and Smyrna

A brief overview of the evidence for associations in Sardis and Smyrna (in the fi rst to third centuries ce) will set the stage for a discussion of rivalries and the expression of group identities. Quite well known in scholarship are the Judean (Jewish) gatherings and Christian congregations that are att ested in these two cities.1 Th e hall within the bath-gymnasium complex at Sardis, which was adapted in the third or fourth century ce and is pictured in fi gure 16, is among the most studiedsynagogues in the diaspora, for instance.2 Josephus refers to a “synod” of Judeans there at least as early as the fi rst enturyc bce (Josephus Ant. 14.259–261; 16.171), and there are numerous inscriptions pertaining to other Judeans as well (see IJO II 53–145). At Smyrna, there was a group that called itself the “people of the Judeans” led by a woman, Rufi na, who was head of the synagogue in the second or third century (IJO II 43), for instance, and I will soon discuss another somewhat controversial inscription involving “former” Judeans at this locale (ISmyrna 697). Christian groups are att ested at Smyrna as early as the time of John’s Revelation in the late fi rst century. eyTh continue in our line of vision through the likes of Ignatius of Antioch, whose lett ers address cities in this region, and Polycarp of Smyrna in the second century. Further information for Christian groups at Sardis comes from authors such as Melito, bishop of Sardis in the mid-second century.3 Alongside these well-studied Judean and Christian minority groups, however, are numerous other associations that have drawn less scholarly att ention and which may provide a framework for comparison on issues such as the expression of identities. Th e range of associations att ested at Sardis and Smyrna is, in fact, quite typical of cities in Asia Minor generally. Beginning with Sardis, the surviving evidence for occupationally based associations here is somewhat limited. Inscriptions do att est to guilds of Italian businessmen in the republican era, slave-merchants in the late fi rst century, and performers devoted to Diony- sos in the second century.4 More prevalent in the record are other groups that explicitly identify themselves with particular patron deities. Th ere were associations in connection with Att is, Zeus, Apollo, and the emperors as “revered gods.”5 Some inscriptions refer to “initiates” in mysteries (μύσται and ἀρχενβάται) without designating the deity in question, one of which is also a group of athletes (ISardH 1, 5). Other monuments from the vicinity of Sardis vaguely refer to other associations using common terminology, such as “association” (κοινόν) and “companions” (συμβίωσις; ILydiaKP III 14–15). Turning to Smyrna, the surviving evidence for associations that epigraphers have managed to document is even more varied. Regarding guilds, here there is more than

1. On Sardis and Smyrna, see the volume edited by Ascough 2005. Also see the recent piece on Judeans, Christians, and others at Sardis by Tessa Rajak (2002, 447–62). 2. On the synagogue see, for instance, Seager and Kraabel 1983; Bonz 1990, 1993; Kroll 2001. 3. See Kraabel 1971; Wilken 1976. 4. SEG 46 (1996), no. 1521 (ca. 88 bce), 1524 (90s ce); ISardBR 13–14 (time of Hadrian). 5. ISardBR 17 (Att is); ISardBR 22; ISardH 3, 4 (Zeus; fi rst-second cent. ce);SEG 46 (1996), no. 1520 (Apollo Pleurenos; fi rst cent. bce); ISardH 2 (Apollo; fi rst cent. ce);ISardBR 62 (emperors; second cent. ce). Group Rivalries and Multiple Identities 147

Figure 16. Synagogue hall within the bath–gymnasium complex at Sardis one “family” (φαμιλία) of gladiators, a “synod” of athletes, a group of porters (devoted to Asklepios at one point), and guilds of basket-fi shermen, tanners, silversmiths, and goldsmiths.6 As in many cities in the region, there was a group of merchants with Italian connections, this one emphasizing its province-wide character in calling itself the “Romans and Hellenes engaged in business in Asia” (ISmyrna 642; mid to late second cent. ce). Several associations at Smyrna make reference to a favourite god or goddess. Among our earliest evidence is the membership list of a group devoted to the worship of Anubis, an Egyptian deity (ISmyrna 765; early third cent. bce). Particularly prominent in the Roman period was a group of “initiates” devoted to Dionysos Breseus.7 Other Dionysiac inscriptions, which may or may not be related to the “Breiseans,” refer to a sanctuary of Dionysos (with Orphic-infl uenced purity rules for entrance) and to a “Baccheion,” a common term for a meeting place among Dionysiac associations.8 Th e goddesses Demeter and Kore fi nd their place here, too. One inscription refers to those that had “stepped into” (hence ἐνβαταί) Kore’s mysteries, and several others refer to a “synod” of initiates of the “great goddess” Demeter.9 It is likely that the group that calls itself “the former Judeans” on a list of donors was dedicated to the deity of its homeland, as I explain further below (ISmyrna 697; about 124 ce). Rulers and emperors once again fi nd their place here, as at Sardis: one group called itself the “friends-of-Agrippa companions”

6. Robert 1971 [1940], nos. 225, 240–41; ISmyrna 217, 709 (athletes; fi rst cent. ce);ISmyrna 204, 205, 713 (porters; ca. 150–180 ce and 225 ce); ISmyrna 715 (fi shermen; third cent. ce); Petzl 1977, 87, no. 18 (tanners); ISmyrna 721 (goldsmiths/silversmiths; ca. 14–37 ce); cf. ISmyrna 718. 7. ISmyrna 598–99, 600–601, 622, 639, 652, 729–30, 731–32. 8. ISmyrna 728, 733 (second-third cent. ce); cf. Nilsson 1957:133–43. On “Baccheion” see IEph 434, IDidyma 502, IGBulg 1864 (Bizye, Th racia), IGR I 787 (Heraklea-Perinthos), IG II.2 1368 (Athens). 9. ISmyrna 726 (Kore; cf. ISardH 5), 653–55 (fi rst-second cent. ce). 148 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians and another in the nearby village of Mostenae was an association of “Caesarists,” regularly engaging in sacrifi ces for their patron deities, the emperors (ISmyrna 331; IGR IV 1348).10 Less certain are the specifi c identities of other associations that simply call themselves “companions,” “fellow-initiates,” “society members,” “synods,” “sanhedrins,” or “friends.”11

Rivalries among Associations and Issues of Identity

As the above survey suggests, we have considerable evidence for associations at Sardis and Smyrna with which to work. At times, however, it will be benefi cial to draw on sources from other cities in the same region and from elsewhere in the Mediterranean to shed more light on issues of identity. Here I discuss a range of possibilities in contentious encounters among associations that also reveal important aspects of how members of these groups expressed their identities within broader society. Aft er dealing with the competitive nature of benefaction, I go on to certain associations’ proclamations of preeminence for their group or deity. Finally, I consider competition for membership and for the allegiances or loyalties of members, which provides an opportunity to evaluate the signifi cance of multiple affi liations and identities.

Rivalries Related to Benefaction

An important aspect of social exchanges in the Greco-Roman world were what we can call systems of benefaction (more appropriate for the Greek East) or patronage (more appropriate for the Latin West). Th e social structures and hierarchies of society were maintained, in part, by exchanges of “good deeds” (literal meaning of “benefaction,” εὐεργασία), benefi ts, or favours in return for honours (τιμαί). Th ose higher in the social strata were expected to make such donations of goodwill (εὔνοια)—be they off ering to build a temple, host a festival, support a local association’s meetings, or act as a leader of a group. Th ose who received such benefi ts were expected to acknowledge them in the form of honours in return. Such honours could entail proclaiming honours during meetings of the group in question or erecting a statue or monument in honour of the donor or donors. Sometimes benefactors might also be invited as a special guest at meetings of the association, for instance. Failure to fi ttingly honour one’s benefactors could result in shame or insult, honour’s antithesis. Considerable scholarly work has been done on the nature of honour–shame societies of the Mediterranean world, both ancient and modern.12 J. E. Lendon’s recent work, Empire of Honour (1997), provides a particularly vivid portrait of how this system of honour func- tioned in Greek and Roman societies. In the mindset of participants in antiquity, this overall system of hierarchy and exchange

10. For the former, compare IG VI 374 (an association of Agrippiasts at Sparta) and CIJ 365, 425, 503 (a synagogue of Agrippesians at Rome). On the synagogues, see Leon 1995 [1960], 140–42 and Richardson 1998, 19–23. 11. ISmyrna 330, 534, 706, 716, 718, 720, 734. 12. Cf. Malina 1981; Elliott 1993. Group Rivalries and Multiple Identities 149 extended to include the cosmos as a whole, as gods and emperors were considered among the most important benefactors deserving of appropriate honours. Th e most fi tting form of honours for the gods was sacrifi ce (and accompanying meals), alongside practices such as prayer, singing of hymns, and mysteries. Fitt ingly honouring gods and emperors was a means by which families, associations, cities, and larger regions helped to ensure the safety and security of their communities. Failure to honour the gods was sure to bring famine, earthquake, fi re, and other disasters; so this was taken seriously. So what we as moderns might call “worship” or “religion” was for the ancients part of a more encompassing system of social and cultural exchanges and values that involved the gods. Turning to associations in Sardis and Smyrna, the conventions of benefaction and honours evince several important dimensions of rivalries within the civic context. First, associations were competitors for the benefaction or support of the elites, and such connections with civic, provincial, or imperial notables could also enhance the perceived status and image of the association within local society.13 Prominent women and men of the city were potentially the benefactors of several groups and institutions (including the city itself). Yet their resources were not limitless, and groups of various kinds were contest- ants as potential benefi ciaries. Rivalries for connections with a particular benefactor are illustrated by the case of T. Julius Lepidus at Sardis and the Lepidus family elsewhere in Asia Minor. Both the offi - cial, gymnastic group of young men (ephebes) and an association of merchants honoured him, probably with expectations of continued support (ISardBR 46 with revisions in SEG 46 [1996] 1523). Th e latt er group joined with the civic assembly in honouring this prominent benefactor in the fi rst century:

According to the decree passed by the assembly, the people of the Sardians honoured T. Julius Lepidus, the emperor-loving high priest of both Asia and the city and foremost man of the city, because of his love of glory and unmatched goodwill towards the homeland. Th ose engaged in business in the slave market ([τῶν ἐν τῷ] | σταταρίῳ πρα[γματευο]|μένων) set up this honour from their own resources.14

Th e guild of merchants was, evidently, quick to join in honouring such a prominent benefactor. Lepidus’s kin at Th yatira, C. Julius Lepidus, was also the benefactor of a gymnastic group (TAM V 968). Th e Th yatiran Lepidus’s cousin (or second cousin), Claudia Ammion, included among her benefi ciaries the guild of dyers:

Th e dyers honoured and set up this monument from their own resources for Claudia Ammion—daughter of Metrodoros Lepidas and wife of Tiberius Claud- ius Antyllos who was gymnasium director three times—who was priestess of the revered ones (emperors) and high priestess of the city for life, having been

13. Cf. van Nijf 1997, 73–128; Harland 2003a, 137–60. 14. SEG 46 (1996), no. 1524 (fi rst cent. ce); cf.TAM V 932 (guild of slave-market merchants at Th yatira). Translations are mine unless otherwise noted. 150 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians contest director in a brilliant and extravagant manner with purity and modesty, excelling others.15

Claudia’s husband was also a benefactor of a gymnastic organization there.16 Associations, organizations, and institutions of various kinds were in competition for contacts with and fi nancial support from elite families like the Lepidus family. Making initial connections with a benefactor helped to ensure continued, cross-gen- erational support (fi nancial and otherwise)from the same family, and hence continued success in competing with potential rivals. Th is is what is hinted at in the following inscription from Sardis: “Th e therapeutists of Zeus—from among those who enter the shrine— crowned Sokrates Pardalas, son of Polemaios, foremost man of the city, for following in his ancestors’ footsteps in his piety towards the deity” (ISardBR 221).17 It is more explicit in the case of the guild of dyers at Th yatira who honoured T. Claudius Sokrates, civic benefactor and imperial cult high priest, just before 113 ce, as well as his son, Sakerdotianos, about twenty years later, praising him for his “love of honour since he was a boy.”18 It is important to remember that inscriptions provide only snapshots of a moving picture, and it is hard to measure the level of competition or the number of groups involved. For example, monuments rarely if ever tell us that an association failed to gain support from a particular benefactor. Not surprisingly, we hear of only the “winners” not the “los- ers.” I would suggest, however, that the associations in question were not assured of such support. Rather, they had to struggle with others, including more offi cial groups or institutions, to be noticed in this way. Successfully gaining such benefaction was a way of raising the profi le of the association within broader society, where the identity of the association could be expressed more openly. Before moving on to the more varied nature of benefaction and its signifi cance, it is worth noting that associations were not always competing for benefactors but could become competitors as benefactors. Associations could be competitors as donors seeking the appropriate honours and prestige in return. Th e guild of silversmiths and goldsmiths at Smyrna, for instance, became a benefactor when it repaired a statue of the goddess Athena “for the homeland” (ISmyrna 721). Such actions could maintain or improve an association’s profi le or visibility within the civic community. A list of donors to civic institutions at Smyrna (dating about 124 ce) included several groups who, because of their willing contributions to the homeland, could expect honour and prestige in return. Here the groups are both cooperating in some ways and competing in others, then. Among the groups listed as donors on this monument were “theologians,” a group of “hymn singers,” and a group of “former Judeans” (οἱ ποτε Ἱουδαῖοι; ISmyrna 697). Th e identity of this group of people identifi ed in some way as “Judeans” has been the centre of some scholarly debate. It is important to take some time here to discuss the

15. TAM V 972 (ca. 50 ce); cf. Buckler 1913, 296–300, nos. 2–3; Harland 2003a, 143–47 (on the dyers at Th yatira). 16. TAM V 975 (fi rst cent. ce); see Harland 2003a, 146, fi gure 25, for the family tree. 17. Cf. Herrmann 1996, 323. 18. TAM V 978–980 = Buckler 1913, 300–306, nos. 4–5 (with family tree). Group Rivalries and Multiple Identities 151 identity of this particular group before returning to our focus on rivalries and benefaction. Traditionally (following Jean-Baptiste Frey in CIJ 742), οἱ ποτε Ἰουδαῖοι (literally “the at one time Ioudaioi”) has been understood as “former Jews” in the “religious” sense of apostates: “Jews who had acquired Greek citizenship at the price of repudiating their Jew- ish allegiance.”19 Mary Smallwood, Louis Feldman, and others who understand it as such cite no other inscriptional evidence to support this interpretation. Moreover, it seems that broader assumptions concerning whether or not Judeans could actually participate in such ways within the Greek city (polis) without losing their “Jewish” identity play a signifi cant role in the decision to interpret the phrase as apostasy. Th is view also seems to separate “religion” from social and cultural life generally, as though the historical subjects would compartmentalize life in this modern way. Th omas Kraabel, who is followed by others, rightly challenges this translation and suggests that the term means “people formerly of Judea.”20 He does not cite inscriptional evidence to back up this use of the term ποτε (“at one time,” “at some time”) in reference to a group of immigrants, however. He bases his interpretation on the fact that this type of monument erected in connection with benefactions from various groups to the city would be an unlikely place to make a public renunciation of faith, which is true. Ross Kraemer (1989) builds on Kraabel’s suggestion and pursues further evidence that suggests the term could indeed be used as a geographical indicator. Recently, Margaret Williams contests Kraabel’s suggestion, arguing that conspicuous Jewish apostasy did occur and “foreign residents are never described as ‘formerly of such and such a region.’ ”21 She makes no positive arguments concerning how to translate this phrase in the inscription, apparently resorting to the unfounded apostasy theory. She is, in fact, mistaken regarding the absence of this practice of describing foreigners as formerly of some region (unless she is still focussed solely on the term ποτε specifi cally). Th ere is substantial evidence for the geographic and ethnic (not “[ir]religious”) understanding of the phrase. First of all, the most recent studies on how to translate the term “Ioudaioi” (e.g., by Philip Esler, Steve Mason, and John H. Elliott ) show that geographical meanings, with ethnic and cultural implications, would predominate in the ancient set- ting, and that it is best to use the term “Judeans” (rather than “Jews” with its specifi cally “religious” connotations to the modern ear) to translate the term.22 Furthermore, in this specifi c case at Smyrna, a lengthy inscription recording various benefactions to the city would be, as Kraabel points out, an unlikely place to make a public statement of apostasy, and there are no other att ested epigraphical parallels to this. Th e announcement of one’s former religious status not only as an individual but as a group would also be peculiar considering the ways in which what we call “religion” was embedded within social and cultural life in antiquity. On the other hand, the clear proclamation of one’s geographical origins with its implications regarding ethnic identity and cultural practice is common in inscriptions. In fact, geographical origin—with accompanying notions of ethnic identity and a cultural way of

19. Feldman 1993, 83, citing Smallwood 1976, 507. 20. Kraabel 1982, 455; cf. Trebilco 1991, 175; ISmyrna 697, notes to line 20. 21. Williams 1997:251–52 (italics mine). 22. See Esler 2003; Mason 2007; Elliott 2007. 152 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians life—is among the most att ested means of identifi cation in the majority of inscriptions, as we saw in earlier chapters. Although we have no other exact parallels to this specifi c usage of ποτε (“at one time,” “at some time”) in the known cases of ethnically or geographically based associations specifi cally, it is important to point out that our evidence is partial at best. Th ere is no consistently employed form of self-designation by such immigrant groups in Asia Minor, such that we cannot speak of deviations. Perhaps more importantly, there is, in fact, a similar phrase used on inscriptions to designate former geographical origins for an individual or several individuals, which parallels closely the case at Smyrna in many regards. In particular, we have the comparable use of πρίν (“before,” “formerly”) as in the phrase “when Aurelius, son of Th eophilos, formerly of Pieria, was secretary.”23 Com- pare also the use of “now” (νῦν) as with the Judean epitaph discussed in chapter 6: “Aur. Heortasios Julianus, Tripolitan, Judean, now living in Hierapolis” (Τριπολείτου Ἰουδέου, νοῖν οἰκο<ῦ>ντ[ος] | ἐν Εἱεραπόλι) (IHierapMir 14b). So the inscription involving Judeans at Smyrna as donors provides another instance of sett lers from the East gathering together as a group, perhaps an ongoing association, much like those groups discussed in our chapter on Syrian immigrants. On this occasion, this ethnically based association joined with other local groups in contributing towards activities in the civic community, engaging in both cooperative and competitive dimensions of benefaction. Returning to the issue of competition and identity, there was far more to benefaction than simple material support. Connections with the elites could be a source of prestige and honour for an association. Here, too, associations were potential rivals as they sought to establish or maintain a place for themselves within society. Th e case of the initiates of Dionysos Breseus at Smyrna serves well in illustrating the feelings of importance that arose from such connections. Th is synod of initiates is fi rst att ested in the late fi rst century and evidently had a long life, existing well into the third century (ISmyrna 731, 729). At a certain point in the second century, the membership apparently encompassed a signifi cant number of performers (τεχνῖται), who were likely responsible for performing the Bacchic theatrical dances (ISmyrna 639).24 Th e synod maintained connections with important fi gures within civic, provincial, and imperial networks. And these connections were a source of prestige for this group, presumably over against other associations within the same milieu. Th e group honoured a member of the local elite who had displayed love of honour in his role as contest director on one occasion (ISmryna 652; fi rst century). About a century later, they erected a monument in honour of a functionary in the imperial cult and in the worship of Dionysos:

Th e sacred synod of performers and initiates which are gathered around Dionysos Breseus honoured Marcus Aurelius Julianus, son of Charidemos, twice-asiarch,

23. NewDocs I 5 = Mitchell 1999, 131, no. 51 (Pydna, Macedonia); cf. IG IV 783.b.4; IG X.2 564 (Th essalonica); SEG 27 (1977), no. 293 (Leukopatra); all third-early fourth cent. ce. I am grateful to John S. Kloppenborg for pointing me to these inscriptions. 24. Cf. Lucian De saltatione 79; Artemidoros Oneirokritika 4.39; IPergamon 486 (association of “dancing cowherds”) Group Rivalries and Multiple Identities 153 crown-bearer, temple-warden of the revered ones (emperors) and “bacchos” of the god, because of his piety towards the god and his goodwill towards the homeland in everything; because of the greatness of the works which he has done for it; and because of his endowments for them. Th is was done when Menophilos Amerimnos, son of Metrophanes, was treasurer and Aphrodisios Paulus, son of Phoibion, was superintendent of works (ISmyrna 639).

Perhaps more important in illustrating the reputation-enhancing nature of connections is this group’s activities and diplomacy in relation to emperors (or emperors-to-be). Th e group set up a monument in honour of Hadrian, “Olympios, saviour, and founder” (ISmyrna 622; ca. 129–131 ce), and even maintained correspondence with both Marcus Aurelius and Antoninus Pius (ISmyrna 600).25 Th e most well-preserved part of the latt er inscription involves the future emperor Marcus Aurelius, then consul for the second time (ca. 158 ce), responding to the initiates who had sent a copy of their honorary decree by way of the proconsul, T. Statilius Maximus. Aurelius’s response to the decree, which per- tained to the association’s celebration at the birth of his son, acknowledges the goodwill of the initiates even though his son had since died. Th at these diplomatic contacts continued with Lucius Verus when Aurelius was emperor is shown in a fragmentary lett er from these emperors to the same group around 161–163 ce, perhaps in response to further honours (ISmyrna 601). While this correspondence with emperors on the part of a local association is somewhat special (though certainly not unique),26 this synod of initiates was by no means alone among associations in regard to engagement in monumental honours. Th e signifi cance of such connections for understanding rivalries and the expression of identities is bett er understood once one realizes that groups sometimes (publicly) advertised their connections by monumentalizing these instances of contacts with important persons in civic, provincial, and imperial networks. In the Roman Empire, sett ing up a plaque or monument was a means by which individuals and groups advertised connections, enhanced their standing, and made a statement regarding their identity in relation to surrounding society. According to Woolf, “the primary function of monuments in the early Empire was as devices with which to assert the place of individuals [or collectivities] within society.”27 Th ose who set up a monument were, in a very concrete manner, literally set in stone, att empting to symbolically preserve a particular set of relations and connections within society and the cosmos for passers-by to observe: the visual and textual components of epigraphy “provided a device by which individuals could write their public identities into history, by fi xing in permanent form their achievements and their relations with gods, with men [sic], with the Empire, and with the city.”28 Monumentalizing, then, was one way in which groups, such as associations, could express their identities within society, simultaneously att empting to enhance their standing in relation to other competitors in the same context.

25. Cf. Krier 1980; Petzl 1983. 26. On associations and diplomacy, see Millar 1977, 456–64 and Harland 2003a, 155–60, 220– 23. 27. Woolf 1996, 29. 28. Woolf 1996, 39. 154 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians The Rhetoric of Rivalry and External Posturing

Competitive mentalities among associations are further indicated in language and expressions of identity, or in what I call “the rhetoric of rivalry” here. I would suggest that the rhetoric of rivalry among associations would, at least on occasion, fi nd social expression in realities of life, as when members of diff erent groups came face to face. Let me illustrate what I mean by the rhetoric of rivalry. Sometimes associations and guilds express pride in group identity by att aching appropriate appellations to their publicized name. Many, like the Dionysiac initiates at Smyrna, felt that their group was “sacred” or “holy.” Others claimed to be particularly “emperor- loving” and still others called themselves “great” or “worldwide”/“ecumenical.”29 Associations of performers and athletes illustrate the conscious rivalry involved in such titles. Two particular groups, which were quite active throughout Asia Minor, piled on the self-designations: “the sacred, worldwide synod of performers, sacred victors and associate competitors gathered around Dionysos and emperor Trajan . . . new Dionysos,” on the one hand; and, “the sacred, athletic, traveling, pious, reverent synod . . . gathered around Herakles and emperor . . . Hadrian . . . ,” on the other.30 Because of the sporadic nature of archeological fi nds, rarely is there evidence of explicit claims of superiority by a particular association. Nonetheless, a monumental statement by a Dionysiac association (Iobacchoi) at Athens is suggestive.31 When this group gathered in assembly they did so “for the honour and glory of the Bacchic association (εἰς κόσμον καὶ δόξαν τοῦ Βακχείου),” acclaiming their new high priest, the wealthy C. Herodes Att icus, and calling for the engravement of the associations’ statutes (see the sculpture of Herodes in fi g- ure 17). Th e minutes for the meeting record the enthusiastic shout of members: “Bravo for the priest! Revive the statutes! . . . Health and good order to the Bacchic association!” Th e meeting culminated with the members’ acclamation: “Now we are the best of all Bacchic associations!” Presumably Dionysiac associations were superior to those devoted to other deities, but this group was the best of all, from the perspective of its members. Th ere are similar rhetorical claims to preeminence among associations, sometimes with reference to the superiority of the patron deity or deities. Occasionally there is rhetoric concerning whose god is the best, most protective, or most worthy of honour. Aelius Aristides of Smyrna refl ects this sort of rhetoric among participants in associations in his discussion of those devoted to Sarapis:

29. “Sacred/most sacred”: IEph 636 (silversmiths); IKyzikos 97 (guild of marble-workers), 291 (sack-bearers/porters); IHierapJ 40 (guild of wool-cleaners), 41, 342 (guild of purple-dyers); SEG 36 (1986), nos. 1051–53 (associations of linen-workers, sack-bearers/porters devoted to Hermes); IGLAM 656 (“tribe” of leather-tanners at Philadelphia); ISmyrna 652 (synod of Breiseans devoted to Dionysos). “Emperor loving”: IEph 293 (initiates of Dionysos); IMiletos 940d (goldsmiths in the theatre). “Great”: IEph 4117 (collegium of imperial freedmen [Kaisarianoi]). “Worldwide”: SEG 36 (1986), no. 1051 (guild of linen-workers at Miletos). “World-wide” was a favourite among guilds of performers and athletes. 30. IAphrodSpect 88 (127 ce), 90; cf. IAphrodSpect 91–92; ISardBR 13–14; IEph 22. 31. IG II.2 1368 = LSCG 51 (ca. 178 ce); cf. Tod 1932, 71–96. Group Rivalries and Multiple Identities 155

Figure 17. Statue head of Herodes Att icus, now in the British Museum

And people exceptionally make this god alone a full partner in their sacrifi ces, sum- moning him to the feast and making him both their chief guest and host, so that while diff erent gods contribute to diff erentbanquets, he is the universal contributor to all banquets and has the rank of mess president for those who assemble at times for his sake . . . he is a participant in the libations and is the one who receives the libations, and he goes as a guest to the revel and issues the invitations to the revel- lers, who under his guidance perform a dance. . . . (Or. 45.27–28)32

Evidently, it was in associations devoted to Sarapis, more so than any others, that participants truly experienced communion with their god, according to the sentiment expressed here. Th ere is further evidence from Smyrna specifi cally. Seldom does the rhetoric of rivalry in inscriptions clearly identify the competitors. Th is is why the case of associations devoted to Demeter and to Dionysos at Smyrna in the fi rst and second centuries is so pertinent to issues of identity and competition. For each of these associations, which existed simultaneously, there are the typical claims regarding the “greatness” of its patron deity. What is even more telling is the terminology used by each group, such that it seems that we are witnessing conscious att empts to rival the other with claims of preeminence. On the one hand is “the synod of initiates of the great goddess before the city (πρὸ πόλεως), Demeter Th esmophoros.” On the other are “the initiates of the great Dionysos Breseus before the city.” 33 In reference to the Dionysiac group, Cadoux interpreted “before the city” as a

32. Trans. Behr 1981–86 with adaptations and my italics. See Youtie 1948 and NewDocs I 1 for several invitations to such banquets in Egypt, in which Sarapis himself is the host who bids his guests to att end. 33. ISmyrna 622 (ca. 129–131 ce), 655 (note the lack of an article in the Greek). For other uses of 156 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians simple reference to locality: “his [Dionysos’s] temple stood just outside the walls.”34 How- ever, as Louis and Jeanne Robert point out, there is likely a double meaning here that relates to issues of rivalry: “It seems that πρὸ πόλεως is employed with two senses: before the city, protecting the city.”35 Members of each association felt that their deity was foremost in protecting the civic community, and their group, not the other, was therefore pre-eminent in the homeland of Smyrna. Th ey proclaimed their rivalrous identities publicly, in this case in the form of inscriptions.

Rivalries over Membership and Allegiances

Associations could also be competitors for members and for the allegiances or loyalties of those who were already members. Th e evidence for multiple affi liations suggests that many associations were potential competitors in this regard. Yet there are clear signs that some groups, more than others, were self-consciously competitive for allegiances, sometimes tending towards claims of exclusivity of some sort. Th is was the case with some Judean gatherings and some groups of Jesus-followers in this same region, but they were not entirely alone. As I explained in the introduction, many social scientists emphasize the situational character of identities, including ethnic identities. Particular people might choose to identify themselves diff erently, or may be perceived by others diff erently, depending on the particular social situation or group sett ing. Communications and understandings of identity—relating to the questions “who am I?” or “who are we?”—could be diff erent when a particular person was att ending one group rather than another. Th ere was potential for an individual to hold plural ethnic and social identities as a result of such multiple group affi liations. I would suggest that the possibility of tensions among such identities in a particular individual would be more prevalent in cases where that individual belonged to at least one group in which certain members or leaders made claims of group exclusivity, including some cultural minority groups or ethnic groups (e.g., certain Christian congregations or certain Judean gatherings). Th e most general, yet instructive, evidence regarding the potential for multiple affi liations among associations comes from imperial legislation. In the late second century, Mar- cus Aurelius and Lucius Verus reenacted a law to the eff ect that it was not lawful to belong to more than one guild (non licet autem amplius quam unum collegium legitimum habere; Digest 47.22.1.2). Regardless of the rationale behind, or (in)eff ectiveness of, such imperial legislation,36 what is clear from such actions is the commonality of one person belonging to more than one association. In other words, membership in a guild or association was oft en

“before the city” by associations, see IEph 275, 1257, 1595, 3808a, 4337 (cf. Merkelbach 1979; NewDocs VI 32). Th e πρὸ πόλεως is used at Ephesos as an additional title for Artemis, pointing to her prominence as patron deity and protector of the city (IEph 276, 650). 34. Cadoux 1938, 175. 35. ‘Il semble que πρὸ πόλεως unisse là les deux sens: devant la ville, protégeant la ville” (Robert and Robert 1983, 172; trans. mine). 36. Meiggs (1960, 321–23) rightly doubts strict enforcement of such laws in the second century. In the fi rst two centuries, governmental involvement or interference in the life of associations was very limited and sporadic, on which see Harland 2003a, 161–73. Group Rivalries and Multiple Identities 157

Figure 18. Th e meeting place of the builders’ guild at Ostia nonexclusive. Belonging to one group did not hinder the possibility of belonging to, or affi liating with, another.37 In this regard, associations of various kinds could be competitors both for new members and for the allegiances of the members they had. Th e happenstance nature of archeological evidence makes it unlikely that we would witness actual examples of such multiple affi liations at the local level. Nonetheless, there are indeed some inscriptional cases from various locales. Russell Meiggs points to at least six cases of dual or multiple memberships in guilds at Ostia in Italy in the second century.38 Meiggs points out that membership in an association based on a specifi c trade was not necessarily confi ned to those of that same trade. isTh left open the possibility of participation within more than one guild even if one did not engage in the occupation in question.39 Most of the Ostian cases happen to involve members who took on leadership or administrative positions, such as Marcus Licinius Privatus, who was president of the builders (whose meeting place is shown in fi gure 18) and later treasurer and president of the bakers (CIL XIV 128, 374, 4569); and L. Calpurnius Chius, who was a treasurer of both the corn- measurers and the woodworkers, as well as a member in associations devoted to Silvanus, Cybele, and others (CIL XIV 309).40 Further examples of multiple affi liations are att ested elsewhere involving associations

37. See also Ascough 2003, 87–88. 38. See Meiggs 1960, 321–322. Cf. Royden 1988, 29, on cases involving the shippers’ guild. 39. Meiggs (1960, 321) points to imperial privileges that were granted to specifi c guilds on condition that only members of the common trade (rather than whoever happened to belong to the guild) were to share in the privilege. 40. Meiggs 1960, 321–22. On Privatus and Chius, see Royden 1988, 70–71, 106–8. 158 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians that do not seem to be based primarily on occupational connections. At Lindos on the Greek island of Rhodes (about 115 bce), a man named Timapolis played a role as leader and member of numerous associations (at least six koina), including those devoted to Aphro- dite and Apollo (ILindos 252, lines 250–260). I have already discussed cases in previous chapters, such as Achilleus son of Achillas, who was “father” of three diff erent associations in Moesia (IGLSkythia I 99–100, II 83). Turning to Roman Asia specifi cally, there are clear indications of multiple affi liations or memberships in associations or other groups. At Pergamon, L. Aninius Flaccus is named as a member of both the Dionysiac “dancing cowherds” and the association of “hymn singers of god Augustus and goddess Roma” in the second or third decade of the second century.41 Contemporary evidence from Ephesos shows that M. Antonius Artemidoros was apparently a member of both “the gold-bearers” (on which see chapter 2) and a group of Dionysiac initiates in the time of Emperor Hadrian (IEph 276 and 1601). Quite intriguing are cases of multiple affi liations involving Judeans and followers of Jesus in Asia Minor, particularly since scholarship has oft en assumed and stressed the “exclusivity” of membership in such groups.42 In light of our earlier discussions of assimilation among immigrants and cultural minorities, these multiple involvements in associations and organizations provide further instances of what some sociologists call informal structural assimilation. Suggestive of such multiple affi liations are the Judeans on membership lists of gymnastic organizations of youths (ephebes) at Iasos in Asia Minor, at Coro- nea in Greece, and at Cyrene in Cyrenaica, as well as those Judeans (or Christians) who are named as members of local elders’ organizations at Eumeneia.43 Th ere are indications that Judeans may have maintained memberships in local guilds without necessarily giving up their connections to the synagogue, as I argued in the previous chapter on Hierapolis. In another study, I have shown that members of Christian congregations in the cities of Roman Asia, especially at Pergamon and Th yatira, seem to have maintained affi liations with other local associations or guilds. 44 Th ere they would encounter food sacrifi ced to the Greco- Roman gods (“idol-food” in John’s terms). John “the seer” clearly objects to these multiple affi liations and labels these involvements idolatry (eating idol-food) and “fornication” (see esp. Rev 2:6, 14–17, 19–23). Yet his Christian opponents who engaged in the activities clearly thought otherwise. John’s call for exclusive membership along the lines of a strong sectarianism was not necessarily the norm, as I have shown. Th ere were clearly debates among other Jesus-followers regarding whether or not one could eat food sacrifi ced to Greek or Roman gods (in associations or elsewhere) while also maintaining membership in a congregation, as the discussions in Paul’s lett er to Corinth and in Acts further suggest (1 Corinthians 8–10; Acts 15; cf. Didache 6.3). Associations and guilds were among the more prevalent local social sett ings in which one might encounter such sacrifi cial foods or meats.

41. Conze and Schuchhardt 1899, 179–80, no. 31 (ca. 106 ce); IPergamon 374. 42. E.g., Meeks 1983. 43. CIJ 755; IJO I Ach 53; Robert 1946, 100–101; Robert 1960a, 436–39 (second-third cent. ce); Lüderitz 1983, 11–21, nos. 6–7 (Jewish names among the ephebes, or youths, at Cyrene in Cyren- aica, late fi rst cent. bce—early fi trs cent. ce); Rajak 2002 [1985], 368–69. In contrast to these mixed groups, at Hypaipa (near Ephesos) there seems to have been a group of “younger men” consisting solely of Judeans (Ἰουδα|[ι]ων νε|ωτέ|ρων; IJO II 47; second or third cent. ce). 44. See Harland 2000; further developed in Harland 2003a, 259–263. Group Rivalries and Multiple Identities 159 Turning to other groups at Sardis and Smyrna specifi cally, there are further indications of multiple affi liations and, in this case, indications of att empts to strengthen allegiances to a particular group. Exclusivistic membership tendencies are oft en att ributed to Judean gatherings and Christian congregations by scholars of early Christianity without att ention to a few suggestive instances involving other associations. Quite telling are att empts by a certain association to curb tendencies towards multiple affi liations, making apparently exclusive claims to the loyalties of members. Such was the case with the therapeutists of Zeus in Sardis, who in the mid-second century reengraved a Greek translation of an apparently ancient, Aramaic edict by the Lydian governor (404–359 bce).45 Th e ancient edict instructs that the temple-keeping therapeutists of Zeus “who enter the shrine and who crown the god are not to participate in the mysteries of Sabazios—with those who bring the burnt off erings—and the mysteries of Agdistis and Ma.” Moreover, “they instruct Dorates, the temple-warden, to abstain from these mysteries.” What is most signifi cant for us here is that the leaders or certain members of this group in the Roman era apparently felt a need to reinforce the allegiances of members in the association at a later time, tending towards a view that would limit participation in other groups that engaged in mysteries. Turning to comparable evidence from Egypt for a moment, an association devoted to Zeus Most High (Hypsistos) at Philadelphia prohibits “leaving the brotherhood of the president for another brotherhood” (τῆς τοῦ ἡγ[ουμένου φράτρας εἰς ἑτέραν φράτραν) (PLond VII 2193, line 14). Such exclusivity was not the norm, but there were indeed some associations with tendencies in this direction. In light of such suggestive evidence, Wayne A. Meeks’s assertion that “Christian groups were exclusive and totalistic in a way that no club nor even any pagan cultic association was” seems overstated, particularly in light of evidence mentioned earlier that suggests that some Judeans and Christians (including those at Corinth) could engage in multiple group affi liations.46 A similar stress on the need for special loyalty to a god’s rites, though not necessarily exclusivity, is evident in one of the so-called confession inscriptions of Lydia. Th is involves a man from Blaundos who set up a monument aft er he was punished by the god “frequently” and “for a long time” “because he did not wish to come and take part in the mystery when he was called” (MAMA IV 281 = Petzl 1994, 126, no. 108; fi rst-second cent. ce). It is important to note that even without such calls for allegiance (whether of an “exclusive” variety or not), many associations could count on members’ att achments and pride in belonging to the group, whether they felt a sense of belonging in other groups simultaneously or not. A grave epigram now in Manisa Museum (= ancient Magnesia on the Sipylos) expresses a deceased member’s renowned identifi cation with the association:

I, who at one point set up a monument of the leader of the society members, lie here, I who fi rst observed zeal and faith towards the society (thiasos). My name was Menophilos. For honour’s sake these men have set up this grave inscription. My mother also honoured me, as well as my brother, children and wife ( IManisaMus 354; 180 or 234 ce).47

45. ISardH 4 = Robert 1975 = CCCA I 456 = NewDocs I 3. 46. Meeks 1983, 85. 47. Translation by Malay 1994, with adaptations. 160 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Continuing family traditions of allegiance to the Dionysiac initiates at Smyrna, for instance, show through when members proudly state that their father was also an initiate in the group, claiming the title “ancestral initiate” (patromystai; ISmyrna 731–32; 80–90 ce ).48 We know that similar patt erns of membership from one generation to the next were practiced among the Iobacchoi at Athens, where the rules outline half-price fees for sons of members (IG II2 1368, lines 37–41).49

Conclusion

Evidently, interaction among associations entailed some degree of competition, and there were opportunities for tensions to arise in particular cases. Associations could be rivals not only for the support of wealthier benefactors, but also for the loyalties of members who belonged to the group. In this context, certain groups could on occasion make claims of preeminence or superiority in relation to other groups. In this way, group identities were developed and communicated, in part, within the broader arena of intergroup relations and rivalries in the cities of the Roman Empire. At various points, I have noted the place of both Judeans and Christians in rivalries. Here it is important to conclude with some implications for Judean gatherings and Chris- tian congregations, both of which happen to be cultural minority groups. Rather than thinking primarily in terms of Christian groups versus other groups (as is customary in studies that employ sectarian typologies), the discussion of rivalries in this chapter suggests we can understand various associations, including Judean and Christian ones, as participants in a broader arena of association life marked by both competition and cooperation, tensions and positive relations. Th e level of tensions between a particular association and other groups in the civic sett ing would vary from one group to the next and from one situation to another. Some ethnic or cultural minority groups would tend towards higher levels of tension at certain points than some other associations. Evidence for multiple affi liations specifi cally is part of the picture of both interactions between groups (with members to some degree bridging connections between associations) and competition for allegiances. Here too there are indications that some Judeans and some Christians as cultural minorities were nonetheless engaged in informal assimilation, as I explained that concept in chapters 5 and 6. Some individual Judeans and Christians affi liated with other groups or associations within the civic context while also being enculturated into the specifi c ways of a given minority group. Alongside these areas of assimilation or tendencies towards biculturalism, there were areas of cultural maintenance that could contribute towards rivalries and tensions that arose, in part, from cultural minority positions. In the next chapter, I explore certain cases of such tensions involving stereotypes about cultural minority groups.

48. Cf. IEph 972, 1573 (πατρογέρων, “son of a gerousia member”). 49. On reduced rates for sons, see Ziebarth 1896, 156. 8

Perceptions of Cultural Minorities

Anti-Associations and Their Banquets

Introduction

“Th ese people are Antropophagos [sic] or Men Eaters.” Th is quotation is found on a map of inland Africa in William Snelgrave’s travel report of 1734, A New Account of Some Parts of Guinea and the Slave-Trade.1 At this point, inland Africa was, in reality, unknown to Britons. Yet the characterization of peoples living in a “Kingdom of Temian” as cannibals illustrates common processes of “othering,” identity formulation, and boundary marking that were also at work in antiquity. Th ese processes of describing foreign peoples or cultural minority groups as barbarous and threatening outsiders are refl ected in Greeknovels, histories, and ancient ethnographic materials. Here “ethnography” refers to ancient writings claiming to describe the customs of other ethnic groups or cultural minorities. In this chapter, I examine how cultural minority groups such as Judean (Jewish) gatherings and Christian congregations could, at times, be a target in these processes of identity construction and expression. Judeans and Chris- tians were involved within ethnic rivalries in the ancient context. Identity theorists are concerned not only with internal group identifi cation, which has been the primary occupation in many chapters here, but also with how those outside a particular group categorize or label that group or its members.2 Internally, I have shown numerous ways in which members of Judean gatherings and Christian congregations defi ned themselves and expressed group identity within a broader context. It is important to note that group identities could sometimes be expressed in ways that converged with certain external perceptions of synagogues and congregations, as I demonstrated regarding shared terminology and self-designations. In this chapter, I turn to some negative aspects of external perceptions and consider how external processes of categorization were at work in the case of cultural minorities such as Judeans and followers of Jesus. I have already touched on the signifi cance of ethnic stereotyping in discussing ethnic groups such as Syrians, Phoenicians, and Judeans. Social

1. See Wheeler 1999, 16–17. 2. On this, see especially Tajfel 1981; Hagendoorn 1993; Jenkins 1994.

161 162 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians and ethnic identity theorists, including Henri Tajfel and Richard Jenkins, stress that how one is perceived by others, regardless of how far this is from any element of truth, plays some role in the construction, negotiation, and expression of identities and in the redefi nition of group boundaries. On the other hand, the act of describing those outside one’s own cultural group is, in part, a process of describing one’s own communal identity. It is by defi ning “them” that the sense of “us” is reinforced or reformulated. So once again this pertains to issues of identity. Yet this chapter focusses on identity from the perspective of how some outsiders described peoples outside of their own group, peoples who were sometimes considered barbarous or dangerous. Social customs of eating and banquets of associations specifi cally could play an important role in such discourses of “the other,” discourses concerning other peoples or groups considered foreign in some way. In fact, accusations of cannibalism, together with accompanying notions of human sacrifi ce, were a recurring element in how certain people presented the identities of others—some Christians among them—as destructive to the very fabric of civilized society. Mary Douglas’s anthropological work on the ways in which the human, physical body and activities aff ecting the body (including eating, sexual customs, etc.) are representative of society and representations of society is suggestive here.3 From this body/society correspondence-theory perspective, the accusation of eating the human body can be interpreted as the equivalent of charging others with destroying human society itself. Th e meal practices of small groups or associations oft en play a role in these discourses of the other. Several ostensibly historical or openly fi ctional accounts from the Hellenistic and Roman periods present a picture of what one might call wildly transgressive behaviour within associations. In particular, there are a number of accounts of activities within associations that focus on human sacrifi ce, cannibalism, and extreme sexual activities, among other things. Within Greek and Roman novels, there is a consistency in the use of bandit associations, in particular, to present a picture of improper social, commensal, and ritual behaviour within informal, small group sett ings. Yet similar categorizations and stereotypes also inform the likes of Livy’s supposedly historical account of the “alien” rites of Dionysiac associations in Rome. Such stories of wild transgression in both fi ctional and historical narratives draw on ethnographic stereotypes of “the other” in order to present a frightening picture of the dangerous or alien anti-association within society. Th is inversion depends on common knowledge of the far more tame convivial and ritual aims of real-life associations as att ested in epigraphy. Moreover, the picture of the outlaw or foreign anti-association that emerges in the material discussed here provides an essential interpretive framework for allegations against cultural minority groups, such as the Judeans of Cyrene who were accused of eating human fl esh and making belts from the entrails of their victims and the early Christian groups who were charged with Oedipean unions (incest) and Th yestean feasts (cannibalism).

3. Douglas 1973, 93–112. Perceptions of Cultural Minorities 163 Wildly Transgressive Banquets in the Imagination

Several accounts of scurrilous banquets and rituals att ributed to criminal and other low-life groups survive in Greek and Latin novels, such that Susan A. Stephens and John J. Winkler can suggest that these themes constitute a “subgenre in the fi eld of ancient fi ction.”4 We shall see that there was a complicated interplay between these literary conventions, on the one hand, and both historical narratives and popular imagination about foreign peoples or cultural minority groups, on the other. In some novels ancient fi ction writers specifi cally have associations in mind (whether an occupational guild, a cultic society, a foreign group, or a mixture of these) when they tell tales of such wild meetings and banquets, particularly in connection with brigands or bandits (latrones in Latin, λῃσταί in Greek).5 In essence, the villainous group can be presented as the antitype of what an association should be, as well as an inversion of all that is pious and right. Discussion of some narratives in both novels and historical works will fl esh out this inverted picture of the association at banquet (the “anti-association,” as I call it), sett ing the stage for an evaluation of similar charges against real-life cultural minority groups and associations.

“They Ate and Drank in Utter Disorder”

Th e connection with associations is most explicit in Apuleius’s second-century story of a band of brigands (latrones) who captured both Lucius, the ass, and Charite, an upper-class “maiden of refi ned qualities” Met.( 3.28–4.25; 6.25–7.12). Th ese brigands are cast as trained professionals (4.9) and military men, and they are repeatedly termed a “guild” (collegium), as when a member addresses his fellows concerned that they behave in a manner “in keeping with the principles of our guild” (Met. 6.31; also see 4.15; 7.1, 7, 8).6 We are also told that the patron deity of this guild is Mars, to whom they off er their sacrifi ces. In this story, the overall behaviour of the association at meals is summarized thus:

Th ey ate and drank in utt er disorder, swallowing meat by the heap, bread by the stack, and cups by the legion. Th ey played raucously, sang deafeningly, and joked abusively, and in every other respect behaved just like those half-beasts, the Lapiths and Centaurs (Met. 4.8).

Here we are witnessing an inversion of common Greek banqueting values. Th e brigands are characterized as excessive and subhuman in their banqueting manners, as the comparison with the feast of the Lapiths and Centaurs indicates. Th e wedding celebration of

4. Stephens and Winkler 1995, 7. 5. On brigands in fi ction see, most recently,Henrichs 1970, 18–35; Winkler 1980, 155–81; Jones 1980, 243–54; Bertrand 1988, 139–49; Hopwood 1998, 195–204; Trinquier 1999, 257–77; Watanabe 2003. On accusations of banditry as a metaphor for the “de-stated” or “barbaric” nonperson, see Shaw 1984, 3–52. 6. Trans. Hanson 1989 (LCL). 164 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians

Figure 19. Architrave depicting a struggle between a Lapith and Centaur, fr om the Parthenon at Athens, now in the British Museum (fi hft cent. bce)

Peirithous, a Lapith, ended in utt er violence between the two peoples as a result of the drunken behaviour of a Centaur. Th ese mythical fi gures were considered the epitome of terrible and violent banqueting behaviour, as evidenced in the title of Lucian’s satirical Symposium, or Th e Lapiths, and in many artistic representations.7 Pictured in fi gure 19 is a struggle between a Lapith and a Centaur as portrayed above the architrave of the Parthe- non at Athens (fi hft cent. bce). Th e main characteristic of the situation in Apuleius’s novel is that disorder prevails within the association, or collegium. Th e conversation of the bandits while feasting height- ens the sense of impropriety as it centers on the details of their underhanded activities that day, which are far from appropriate topics for the symposium as outlined by the likes of Plutarch in his Symposium. What comes to the fore in other accounts of the brigands’ meals is only hinted at in Apuleius’s story in connection with their new brigand chief from Th race who was “nursed on human blood” (Met. 7.5; cf. Herodotus Hist. 4.64).

7. Cf. Homer Od. 21.285–304; Pausanias Descr. 1.17.2; 1.28.2; 5.10.8. Perceptions of Cultural Minorities 165 “They Sacrificed a Human Being and Partook of the Flesh”

Particularly common in portraits of the antibanquets of brigand and other groups is the transgressive practice of human sacrifi ce accompanied by a cannibalistic meal, the ultimate parody of the sacrifi cial banquet. Such tales of human sacrifi ce are found in a variety of contexts in antiquity, particularly in ethnographic descriptions of foreign peoples or cultural minority groups, in narratives of conspiracy (which eff ectively barbarize certain Greeks or Romans), and in narratives with entertainment purposes, such as novels. James Rives’s study of the social meaning of human sacrifi ce in antiquity shows how human sacrifi ce acts as a sign within discourses of barbarity versus civilization and of piety versus “superstition” or “magic” (namely, activities perceived as inappropriate ritual practice).8 Moreover, in virtually all accounts of such wild transgressions, we are witnessing ethnographic discourses that deal with description of the other, whether that other is a remote “barbarian” people or a more dangerous enemy within. Here I focus primarily on associations specifi cally, only touching on broader issues of human sacrifi ce insofar as they clarify notions of supposed counter-cultural behaviour within small-group sett ings. Among the more controversial accounts is the description of a human sacrifi ce (a child or a servant) and the accompanying meal in fragments of a second-century Greek novel by Lollianos, entitled A Phoenician Story (Phoenikika).9 Th e instigators of the sacrifi ce in this fragment are never expressly called brigands, even though most scholars who have dealt with the passage assume so.10 Perhaps we are safer in generally referring to them as “low-lifes” or, as Winkler puts it, “desperadoes.” For present purposes it is important to point to an explicit designation in the fragmentary text: in the midst of the narrative, there is a reference to the “ones being initiated” (τοῖς μυουμένοις). We need not agree with those who read the novels allegorically and see hidden mystic connections throughout (as does Reinhold Merkelbach, refl ected in Hen- richs), nor with those who, in reaction, tend to downplay the author’s explicit references to mysteries (e.g., Winkler and C. P. Jones).11 I would suggest that we can discuss this episode in terms of a low-life association of initiates, an inverted picture of associations of initiates (μύσται) that are widely att ested in the epigraphic record, as discussed in previous chapters. As I show in connection with Livy’s account of the Bacchanalia, there are cases when ancient authors ascribe ritual murder and related criminal activities to real-life groups that engaged in mysteries, particularly those devoted to foreign deities.12

8. Rives 1995, 65–85. 9. POxy 1368 + PColon 3328 (here the focus is on the narrative in B1 recto). For a critical edition of the text see Henrichs 1972 and, most recently, Stephens and Winkler 1995, 314–57 (with Greek text and extensive commentary). 10. Henrichs goes further in identifying them with the brigand “cowherds” (βουκόλοι) att ested in Dio Cassius and in other novels (Henrichs 1970, 33, 35). On the problems with that view, see Stephens and Winkler 1995, 319–21. 11. E.g., Merkelbach 1995. See the critique in Winkler 1980; Jones 1980; Beck 1996, 131–50. 12. On ritual murder and Mithras, see Vermaseren 1963, 166–68; Turcan 1981, 350 nn. 6–7. On “jars of human fl esh” accidentally discovered in the temple of Bellona (oft en identifi ed with the Cap- padocian goddess Ma), see Dio Cassius 42.26.2–3. 166 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Th e fragmentary episode in Lollianos—which begins with the sacrifi ce of the child or servant, a sacrifi cial oath ritual, and a sacrifi cial meal—runs as follows:

Meanwhile another man, who was naked, walked by, wearing a crimson loincloth, and throwing the body of the pais (child or servant) on its back, he cut it up, and tore out its heart and placed it upon the fi re. Th en, he took up [the cooked heart] and sliced it up to the middle. And on the surface [of the slices] he sprinkled [bar- ley groats] and wet it with oil; and when he had suffi ciently prepared them, [he gave them to the] initiates, and those who held (a slice?) [he ordered] to swear in the blood of the heart that they would neither give up nor betray [------], not [even if they are led off to prison], nor yet if they be tortured.13

As Henrichs points out, this whole sacrifi cial scene follows the usual Greek patt ern of sacrifi ce, including the central importance of the internal organs or entrails (σπλάγχνα).14 Also not unusual is the accompanying oath ceremony, in which portions of the innards were consumed together as a symbolic means of binding participants. What is extremely unusual, and deliberately inverts what would otherwise be considered pious activity in honour of the gods, is the fact that it is a human, rather than an animal, victim in this ritual. Following the sacrifi ce, the oath ceremony, and the meal came further drinking and entertainment as “they sang, drank, had intercourse with the women in full view of Androtimos (either the leader of the initiates or a captive of the outlaws; B1 Verso, lines 20–21).15 Shortly thereaft er the participants put on robes, smeared their faces with black or white, and departed, likely to engage in further criminal activity in disguise. Th e author of this novel is certainly not the fi rst to combine both human sacrifi ce and oath-taking in an inversion of common ritual, as the tales of the conspiracy (coniuratio; lit., “swearing together”) of Cataline clearly show.16 Cataline was among the main political opponents of Cicero (for the consulship, the highest political position at that time) in the city of Rome during the Republican era (in the 60s bce). Legends about his conspiratorial activities involving human sacrifi ce developed over time: Sallust mentions Cataline and his co-conspirator’s oath that was sealed by partaking from “bowls of human blood mixed with wine” (Bell. Cat. 22.1–2); Plutarch claims that “they sacrifi ced a human being and partook of the fl esh”Cic. ( 10.4); and Dio Cassius asserts that the conspirators “sacrifi ced apais [child or servant] and aft er administering the oath over his vitals, ate these in company with the others” (37.30.3).17 Such accusations against one’s compatriots were a succinct way of placing opponents, or disliked

13. PColon 3328, B 1 recto, lines 9–16. Trans. Stephens and Winkler 1995, 338–41. 14. Henrichs 1970, 33–34. 15. Both Jones and Stephens and Winkler point out some striking similarities between the story here and that in Apuleius’s Met. (esp. 4.8–33), including a reference to Lapiths as prototypes of unruly banqueters, such that some literary relation is likely (see Jones 1980; Winkler 1980; Stephens and Winkler 1995, 322–25). 16. Cf. Dölger 1934, 207–10; Rives 1995, 72–73; Diodorus Siculus 22.3.5; Plutarch Publ. 4.1; Philostratus Vit. Apoll. 7.11, 20, 33. 17. Trans. Rolfe 1921 (LCL); Perrin 1916–20 (LCL); Cary 1960–84 (LCL). Perceptions of Cultural Minorities 167 politicians of the past, beyond the pale of humanity and civilization, a way of “barbarizing” a fellow Greek or Roman, as Rives puts it.18 Th ough references to “initiates” are lacking in some other cases, there are similar stories of human sacrifi ce in other novels that present bands of brigands as the ultimate criminal cultic group or association. Th us in Xenophon’s second-century Ephesian Tale we fi nd a band of brigands (λῃστήριον), led by one Hippothoos, collecting statues, wood, and gar- lands in preparation for a sacrifi ce in honour of their patron deity, Ares. It turns out that the “usual manner” for their sacrifi ces is to “hang the intended victim, human or animal, from a tree and throw javelins at it from a distance” (Ephesiaka 2.13). In this case, their intended victim is saved at the last moment by the police chief of the region of Cilicia in Asia Minor, who has most of the brigands killed. Another instance involves a close call, but in Achilles Tatius’s second-century novel (ca. 150–175 ce) the sacrifi ce apparently takes place.19 Th is episode includes the bandit “herdsmen” or “cowherds” (βουκόλοι) of the Egyptian Delta, based at a place called Nikochis (Leuc. Clit. 4.12.8). It combines the internal threat of robbers with the common fear of “barbarian” (here non-Greek) peoples which is characteristic of ancient travel literature, or ethnography. Th e “cowherds,” who are recurring characters not only in novels but also historical writings, are here presented as “wild frightening men, all large and black” and they “all shouted in a foreign language” (3.9). Th e narrator, Clitophon, wishes that he and his travelling companions had been captured by Greek bandits instead (3.10). Ultimately, Clitophon and Leucippe, the protagonists, are separated, and Clitophon escapes from the brigands when they are att acked by the Egyptian army (Leuc. Clit. 3.13– 14). Th en, from a distance, Clitophon witnesses his beloved Leucippe, still in the hands of the brigands. Th e fi rst person narrative heightensthe horror as we witness the brigands’ preparations for a sacrifi ce under the direction of their “priest” (ἱερεύς), creating an altar and pouring a libation over Leucippe’s head. Th e participants lead her in a sacrifi cial procession to the accompaniment of fl utes as the Egyptian priest chants a hymn:

Th en at a signal they all moved far away from the altar. One of the att endants laid her on her back and tied her to stakes fi xed in the ground. . . . He next raised a sword and plunged it into her heart and then sawed all the way down to her abdomen. Her viscera leaped out. Th e att endants pulled out her entrails and carried them in their hands over to the altar. When it was well done they carved the whole lot up, and all the bandits shared the meal. . . . All this was done according to the rubrics sanctioned by the priest. (Leuc. Clit. 3.15)20

Clitophon stood there in “sheer shock,” a shock that no doubt is meant to be shared by the reader, or hearer, of this story. But we soon learn that Leucippe is alive and well, and the two men (who had only pretended their allegiance to the brigand group aft er their capture) had successfully fooled the brigands using some stage props and special eff ects (animals’ entrails and a trick sword).

18. Rives 1995, 73. On the “political cannibal” see McGowan 1994, 431–33. 19. Cf. Bertrand 1988. 20. Trans. Winkler in Reardon 1989, 216. 168 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians Th e sacrifi ce of a virgin was, in part,21 to be the “initiation” of these two men into the brigand association, as the chief brigand (λῃστάρχος) informed them: “We have a tradition that sacrifi ces, especially human sacrifi ces, must be performed by the newly initiated (πρωτομύσται).” “Yes sir! We are ready to live up to the highest standards of banditry” was the reply of the initiates-to-be (Leuc. Clit. 3.22; cf. 3.19). Th e case of the “cowherds” of Egypt happens to provide an instance where history and fi ction are intimately intertwined, and where the accusations of barbaric human sacrifi ce recur again in historical sources.22 We know from Strabo that there were indeed people that went by the designation “cowherds” (βουκόλοι) in the Egyptian Delta region before the time of Augustus. Yet these are initially described as herdspeople who were also brigands (λῃσταί) in a matt er-of-fact manner with no elaboration on any extreme social or ritual conventions beyond their occupation, which included the positive role (in the view of earlier Egyptian kings, so Strabo claims) of warding off foreigners, namely Greeks (Geogr. 17.1.6; 17.1.19). Now a papyrus scroll from the Egyptian Delta confi rms ongoing references to these brigands in 166/167 ce, where they are described by an outsider as “the impious Neikokeitai (τῶν ἀνοσίων Νεικωκειτῶν ),” which is in keeping with the base at Nikochis which Tatius mentions in his novel.23 Th e same descriptive term, “impious” (ἀνοσίος), is used of the Judeans in connection with the revolt under Trajan, by the way. Furthermore, another second-century papyrus contains an oracle that deals with disturbances and seems to refer to the death of “cowherds,” presumably as part of the solution to the disturbance.24 By the time Dio Cassius writes his history (ca. 211–222 ce), then, there has been opportunity for the development of tales surrounding these threatening fi gures of the Delta. As Winkler convincingly argues, we are here witnessing a case of “history imitating story,” more so than the other way around.25 Dio’s account of a revolt in 172/173 ce involving the “cowherds” happens to mention that the group was led by an Egyptian priest (ἱερεύς) Isidorus.26 Dio claims that some of the “cowherds” dressed as women and pretended to off er ransom for the release of prisoners in order to deceive and capture a Roman centurion and other soldiers involved in quelling the revolt. Th is is where Dio moves on to the sort of stereotypical accusations that are in keeping with tales of the supposed criminal behaviour of political conspirators and “barbarous”

21. Th e sacrifi ce was also the means by which the brigands hoped to purify their citadel and gain the upper hand in batt les with Egyptian troops (3.19). 22. On the “cowherds,” also see Heliodorus An Ethiopian Story (cf. Xenophon An Ephesian Tale 3.12); Winkler 1980, 175–81; Bowersock 1994, 51–53; Frankfurter 1998, 207–8; Rutherford 2000. 23. See Fuks 1953, 157–58. 24. PTh mouis 1, col. 104, line 13 and col. 116, lines 4–5. See Shelton 1976, 209–13; Frankfurter 1998, 208 n. 46; cf. Bertrand 1988; Bowersock 1994, 53. 25. Winkler 1980, 178. Cf. Herodotus Hist. 4.106, describing the so-called Androphagi. 26. Th is priestly leadership of the group seems to be echoed in Heliodorus’s fi ctional narrative in which the brigand chief Th yamis is the son of a high priest of Memphis (An Ethiopian Story 1.19; cf. Frankfurter 1998, 208). Th e account in Tatius, discussed above, likewise mentions the presence of a priest within the group. Perceptions of Cultural Minorities 169 peoples: “Th ey also sacrifi ced his [the centurion’s] companion, and aft er swearing an oath over his entrails, they devoured them” (Dio Cassius 72.4.1–2).27 Furthermore, there seems to be some consistency in Dio’s choice of the charge of human sacrifi ce and cannibalism against supposedly barbarous peoples in connection with revolts specifi cally. For when he describes the revolt of Judeans in Cyrene, who were “destroying both the Romans and the Greeks,” he claims that “they would eat the fl esh of their victims, make belts for themselves of their entrails, anoint themselves with their blood and wear their skins for clothing” (68.32.1–2). For Dio and some others, this was not out of the ordinary for such foreign peoples: Dio suggests that the Judean immigrants in Egypt and on Cyprus had “perpetrated many similar outrages” (68.32.2). Th e blurring of the line between history and reality, fact and fi ction, that Dio’s account of the “cowherds” illustrates so well extends to other supposed historical accounts and popular reports concerning real-life associations and cultural minorities.

Accusations of Wild Transgression and Cultural Minority Groups

“Away . . . You Who Suck Men’s Blood”

Notorious is the case of the suppression of worshippers of Bacchus, namely Dionysos, in Rome and Italy beginning in 186 bce (Livy Hist. Rom. 39.8–19). Many studies have struggled with historical, political, ritual, and other dimensions of Livy’s account of the Bacchanalia and with the epigraphic decree concerning actions by the Roman senate, which shows that Livy is not making the whole thing up.28 Here I am less concerned with the question of Roman suppression of Bacchic groups in the early second century, which has been dealt with extensively in scholarship. Instead, I want to consider how the Roman historian Livy, in about 20 bce, presents this particular case as a story of a “foreign” (Greek) association threatening the Roman way of life and contributing to moral decline.29 I am interested in Livy’s account as description of the alien “other” within, and in what accusations of wild transgression are made concerning the nature of the meetings, initiations, and banquets of these Dionysiac associations. It is important to consider to what degree the charges of ritual murder and sexual perversion may be a consequence of Livy’s ethnographic, artistic, or novelistic license. It is important to note the position of this whole incident within Livy’s history: the Bacchanalia aff air takes place almost immediately following Livy’s characterization of the 180s bce as the “seeds” of moral decline at Rome. From Livy’s perspective, the moral decline was due, in large part, to the infl uence of foreign ways and featured, in particular,

27. Trans. Cary 1960–84 (LCL). 28. See, more recently, North 1979, 85–103; Rousselle 1982; Gruen 1990, 34–78; Walsh 1996, 188–203. 29. Cf. Dio Cassius, 52.36.2. 170 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians imported styles of convivial entertainment and elaborate banquets from “Asia” (Hist. Rom. 39.6).30 Th e Bacchanalia incident is presented as one further case of this decline. As P. G. Walsh convincingly shows, there is no need to doubt the “bare bones” of Livy’s account in terms of the overall incident and the action of the senate. But there is an important distinction to be made regarding the relative reliability of two main sections of the narrative, between the fi rst, longer section (Livy Hist. Rom. 39.8.1–39.14.3) and the second, shorter section dealing with the meeting with the senate (from 39.14.3). “What goes before is clearly a romantic and dramatic expansion of [Postumius’s] report, whereas what follows is based on senatorial records, and is more solidly historical.”31 It is precisely in the former, novelistic section that descriptions of wild activities of the association are elaborated in most lurid detail. In agreement with Erich Gruen’s observation that the account “evokes the atmosphere of a romantic novel—or bett er, Hellenistic and Roman New Comedy,” Walsh then goes on to argue that evidence in Plautus, a contemporary of the Bacchic suppression, suggests that Bacchic themes “may have featured as the plot of a comic or mimic drama” and that this “has left its mark on the historiographical tradition” (on both Livy’s sources and on Livy’s own history writing).32 Among the ongoing jokes in Plautus about the dangers of Bacchic orgies (also cited in this section’s subtitle) is one character’s statement: “Away from me, sisters [bacchants], you who suck men’s blood.”33 Livy’s account begins with the alien nature of these Dionysiac groups, speaking of a “Greek of humble origin” whose “method of infecting people’s minds with error was not by the open practice of his rites and the public advertisement of his trade and his system; he was the hierophant [revealer of sacred objects] of secret ceremonies performed at night” (Livy Hist. Rom. 39.8).34 Th e initiations, Livy continues, “soon began to be widespread among men and women. Th e pleasures of drinking and feasting were added to the rituals to att ract a larger number of followers. When wine had infl amed their feelings, and night and the mingling of the sexes and of diff erent ages had extinguished all power of moral judgement, all sorts of corruption began to be practiced” (39.8). We then learn of other illegal activities, including supply of false witnesses, forging of documents, perjury, and, most frighteningly, wholesale murder. Th e most lurid accusations in Livy’s account, which spells out the aforementioned “corruption,” appear in a passage that is considered among the least historical sections of the story: namely, the fi rst-hand descriptions ofthe secretive practices of a former member, Hispala, that had for some reason remained undetected until her report.35 First, Livy has Hispala outline the crimes in private to warn the initiate-to-be, her lover, Aebutius (Livy Hist. Rom. 39.9–10). But it is in the second, more offi cial report to the consul, Postumius (39.13), that the lurid details of extreme sex and ritual murder come to the fore. In this second report to the consul, Hispala relates how initiations in the Dionysiac

30. Cf. Walsh 1996, 189–90. 31. Walsh 1996, 193. 32. Gruen 1990, 62; Walsh 1996, 192. 33. Bacchides 52ff ., 368ff ., as cited by Walsh 1996. 34. Trans. Bett enson 1976, with minor adaptations (text in Sage 1965). 35. Cf. North 1979, 88–90; Gruen 1990, 61–65. Perceptions of Cultural Minorities 171 mysteries originally only took place three times a year in daylight, but that more recently the meetings had increased to fi ve days each month at night. Not only that, but membership had increased greatly by this time, including participants from among the Roman elites. Th en come the details of moral degradation inspired by foreign rites:

From the time when the rites were held promiscuously, with men and women mixed together, and when the license off ered by darkness had been added, no sort of crime, no kind of immorality, was left unatt empted. Th ere were more obsceni- ties practiced between men than between men and women. Anyone refusing to submit to outrage or reluctant to commit crimes was slaughtered as a sacrifi cial victim. To regard nothing as forbidden was among these people the summit of religious achievement. (Livy Hist. Rom. 39.13)

Here we are seeing the common stereotypes so familiar to us now of wild banquets com- bined with human sacrifi ce. Yet added to this is the accusation of sexual “perversions” that accompanied the drinking. Ethnographic descriptions in which foreign peoples are accused of unusual sexual practices are common, as in Tacitus’s account of the Judeans’ supposed “unlawful” sexual behaviour (Hist. 5.5.2; cf. Martial Epigr. 7.30).36 Th is combination of inverted banqueting and perverted sexual practices would recur in the list of counter-cultural practices att ributed to the early Christians as well. Livy provides another clear case where fi ction informed by ethnographic stereotypes of the criminal tendencies of foreign peoples informs the description of real-life associations, in this case an association with mysteries. Inversion of proper banqueting and drinking practices, as well as distorted sacrifi cial rites, are again at the heart of the allegations. Inscriptional and papyrological evidence for the actual banqueting and sacrifi cial activities of associations of various kinds, including many Dionysiac associations, comes across as far less exciting, one might even say bland, in relation to these more extreme, imaginative materials. In particular, although there are indications of abusive conduct, and drinking was most certainly a component in such matt ers, there were simultaneously widely shared values which set parameters on banqueting behaviour within associations and which, from time to time, could be carved in stone. Moreover, the association regulations or sacred laws of the Greco-Roman era that have survived and been uncovered (such as the rule of the Iobacchoi at Athens sketched in fi gure 20) are concerned with issues of order and decorum in meetings, rituals, and banquets.37 For example, the rules of the devotees of Zeus Hypsistos, which are echoed elsewhere, include the following: “It shall not be permissible for any one of [the members]. . . to make factions or to leave the brotherhood of the president for another, or for men to enter into one another’s pedigrees at the

36. Cf. Tertullian Marc., 1, where Tertullian speaks of the unusual sexual practices of the people of Pontus in an att empt to critique his Christian opponent, Marcion of Pontus. 37. See, for instance, the regulations of the collegium devoted to Diana and Antinoos at Lanu- vium in Italy (CIL XIV 2112; 136 ce), the devotees of Bacchos at Athens (IG II2 1368; 176 ce), and several associations at Tebtunis in Egypt (PMich V 243–245; mid-fi rst century ce). Cf. Boak 1937, 210–19; Dennis E. Smith 2003, 97–131. 172 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians symposium or to abuse one another at the symposium or to chatt er or to indict or accuse another or to resign the course of the year or again to bring the symposia to nought . . .” (PLond 2710; ca. 69–58 bce).38 Although rules may oft en be drawn up to deal with problems that were actually encountered, the regulations suggest that “good order”—as defi ned by such groups—remained a prevalent value in many banqueting sett ings. So we should not imagine that stories of wild transgression are descriptive of real activities in immigrant or cultural minority groups, or in other associations.

“Come! Plunge the Knife into the Baby”: Judeans and Jesus-followers

Since the classic work on accusations of infanticide against Christians by F. J. Dölger, a number of studies have focused on explaining the Th yestean feasts (cannibalism) and Oedipean unions (incest) mentioned in connection with the martyrs of Lyons, among them the important contributions by Albert Henrichs and Robert M. Grant.39 More recently, M. J. Edwards and Andrew McGowan have independently focused their att ention on the Christian evidence and have come to similar conclusions regarding the origins of these accusations. Βoth scholars challenge the suggestion of Grant and others that the accusations emerged out of a misunderstanding of the actual practices of Christians (namely, a misunderstanding of the eucharist—eating the body and blood of Christ—and the custom of addressing one another as “brother” or “sister”).40 Edwards convincingly argues that it is what the Christians did not do—that they did not sacrifi ce to or fully acknowledge the gods of the Greeks and Romans—that made them stand out as foreign. Dölger was “correct to surmise that pagan controversialists were fi lling a lacuna in their knowledge of Christian practices, just as they were wont to att ribute every peculiarity to barbarians.”41 Although the accusations against Christians, as well as their Judean precedents, have drawn the att ention of many scholars, few fully address these allegations within the framework of ethnography and descriptions of dangerous or foreign associations specifi c- ally. Whereas the material concerning the outlaws in Lollianos’s episode fi gure somewhat importantly in recent discussions of the Christian evidence, especially Henrich’s study,42 few suffi ciently place the discussion within the framework of the outlaw or foreign anti- associations discussed here. Nor have these ethnographic discourses and accusations been explained within the framework of theories of social identity and external categorization, which I have outlined in connection with stereotypes about Syrians and others in chapter 5. Returning to these ancient instances of social categorization, it is important to outline some of the Judean precedents before moving on to allegations against others who hon-

38. Trans. Roberts, Skeat, and Nock 1936, 42, with adaptations. 39. Henrichs 1970. Cf. Henrichs 1981, 195–235; Grant 1981, 161–70. 40. Edwards 1992, 71–82; McGowan 1994. See chapter 3 in this volume, which shows the diffi culties in assuming that the Christian practice of calling one another “brother” was unique (which is an assumption behind Grant’s theory). 41. Edwards 1992, 74; cf. Rives 1995. 42. Henrichs 1970. Perceptions of Cultural Minorities 173

Figure 20. Sketch of the rules of the Bacchic association (Iobacchoi) at Athens, fr om Harrison 1906, fi g u r e 2 .5 oured the Judean God, namely, followers of Jesus.43 Many ancient ethnographic descriptions of the Judeans by Greek, Egyptian, and other authors have been gathered together in Menahem Stern’s Greek and Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism (1974–84) and have been recently discussed in works such as Peter Schäfer’s Judeophobia (1997). Th ese descriptions provide important evidence regarding external categorizations and stereotypes regarding Judeans. In discussing the customs of the Judeans, both Damocritos and Apion (or Apion’s source) give credence to rumours, or simply create stories, that Judeans engaged in human sacrifi ce. Att ributed to the Greek author Damocritos (perhaps late fi rst century ce) is the idea that Judeans worshiped the statue of an ass and that every seven years they “caught a foreigner and sacrifi ced him,” cutt ing him into pieces.44 Th ere is a sense in which the accusation of human sacrifi ce is a short form for notions of Judeans’ supposed hostility

43. On such accusations against Judeans, see Bickerman 1980, 225–55; Feldman 1993, 123–76; Peter Schäfer 1997. 44. Trans. by Stern 1974–84, 1.531. 174 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians to foreigners (μισόξενος βίος), as in Hecataeus (ca. 300 bce), and hatred of human kind (μισανθρωπία), as in Apollonios Molon (fi rst century bce).45 More extensive is the tale of the Judeans’ sacrifi ce of foreigners, namely Greeks, as told by Apion (contemporary of Philo in fi rst-century Alexandria, Egypt). isTh Apion authored works that critiqued the ways of Judeans and others; this spurred a response by Josephus, appropriately called Against Apion. Apion also played a more direct role as an ambassador for the Greeks of Alexandria in their rivalries with local Judeans, which I mentioned in chapter 1 in connection with Philo’s role as ambassador for the Judeans. Apion’s account of an incident in connection with the time of Antiochus Epiphanes (160s bce) claims to be based on the report of a fatt ened escapee.46 According to the story, the Judeans had captured this Greek in order to fulfi ll the “unutt erable law of the Judeans”: annually, “they would kidnap a Greek foreigner, fatt en him up for a year, and then convey him to a wood, where they slew him, sacrifi ced his body with their customary ritual, partook of his fl esh, and, while immolating the Greek, swore an oath of hostility to the Greeks” (Josephus C. Ap. 2.91–96).47 Here there is once again the reference to making an oath on a human victim, which was common in stories of criminal or political conspiracy, such as those associated with Cataline and the bandits in Lollianos’s novel. Similar charges continued against Judean associations in the diaspora specifi cally. We have already seen this in the case of Dio Cas- sius’s account of the supposed cannibalistic commensal behaviour of Judeans during the revolts in Cyrene, Cyprus, and Egypt. Th is brings us, fi nally, to the anti-banquets att ributed to another set of cultural minority groups with Judean connections in the diaspora sett ing: followers of Jesus. Th is is not the place to engage in full analysis of all cases that have been discussed at length in scholarship.48 Yet it will be worthwhile briefl y to outline some of the Christian evidence in order to place it in the context of the present discussion of cultural minority groups and discourses of the other. Th ese accusations, like the stories of bandit anti-associations, political conspiracy, and alien cults, arise from a common stockpile of stereotypes of the threatening other, and there is no need to look for any basis in the reality of actual practices. As early as Pliny the Younger (ca. 110 ce), who as we saw in chapter 1 thinks of the Christians as both an “association” and an un-Roman or foreign “superstition,” there are indications that rumours were circulating about the Christians in Pontus. At least this seems to be the case, if we can read Pliny’s mention of “food of an ordinary and harmless kind” as an allusion to a rumoured “crime” (fl agitium) of cannibalism (Pliny Ep. 10.96.7; cf. Tacitus Ann. 15.44.2).49 In fact, Pliny seems to have in mind the typical portrait of the criminal, conspiratorial, or low-life association (though not necessarily the Bacchanalia specif- ically) when he states that these Christians “bind themselves by oath, not for any criminal

45. Texts in Stern 1974–84. Cf. Feldman 1993, 125–48; Peter Schäfer 1997, 15–17, 21–22, 170–79. 46. Schäfer convincingly argues against Bickerman’s view that Apion’s story originated in the time of Epiphanes (Schäfer 1997, 62–65; cf. Rives 1995, 70–71). 47. Trans. Th ackeray 1926 (LCL). 48. See, most recently, Henrichs 1970; Benko 1980, 1055–118; Edwards 1992; McGowan 1994. 49. On rumours of “crimes” (fl a g i t i a ), see Tacitus Ann. 15.44 and Suetonius Nero 16.2. Perceptions of Cultural Minorities 175 purpose, but to abstain from theft , robbery, and adultery, to commit no breach of trust and not to deny a deposit when called upon to restore it” (Ep. 10.96.7).50 Around 150 ce, Justin Martyr mentions the accusations of sexual licence and eating of human fl esh Apol.( 1.26.7). Th e charges of “Th yestean feasts” (cannibalism) and “Oedipean unions” (incest) are explicit in the lett er from the Greek-speaking Christians of Vienne and Lyons to the Christians in Asia and Phrygia concerning the martyrdoms in 177 ce. Th ere the accused are also charged with “atheism” (ἄθεος) and “impiety” (ἀσεβές; Eusebius HE 5.1.3–5.2.8). More explicit and detailed charges of infant sacrifi ce within associations of Jesus-followers come to the fore in the writings of Tertullian and in Minucius Felix. In his discussion of Rumour personifi ed, for instance, Tertullian refutes the charges by exaggerating them to show their absurdity: “Come! plunge the knife into the baby, nobody’s enemy, guilty of nothing, everybody’s child . . . catch the infant blood; steep your bread with it; eat and enjoy it” (Apol. 8.2). In Minucius Felix’s dialogue, Caecilius critiques the atheistic, Christian “gang . . . of discredited and proscribed desperadoes” (deploratae, inlicitae ac desperatae factionis) (Octavius 8.3).51 Th ey consist of the dregs of society and women, who are also considered “profane conspirators (profanae coniurationis) leagued together by meetings at night and ritual fasts” (Oct. 8.3–4). Th is “superstition” (superstitio) is a “promiscuous brotherhood and sisterhood” (fr atres et sorores) that worship an ass and adore the genitals of their high priest (Oct. 9.2–4). According to Caecilius, the initiation of new members takes place in a sacrifi cial banquet that once again echoes the anti-banquets we have seen in both novels and ethnographic sources:

An infant, cased in dough to deceive the unsuspecting, is placed beside the person to be initiated. Th e novice is thereupon induced to infl ict what seems to be harmless blows upon the dough, and unintentionally the infant is killed by his unsuspecting blows; the blood—oh, horrible—they lap up greedily; the limbs they tear to pieces eagerly; and over the victim they make league and covenant, and by complicity in guilt pledge themselves to mutual silence. (Oct. 9.5–6)

Finally, reminiscent of Livy’s tales of the Bacchanalia, Caecilius speaks of the Chris- tians’ banquets in more detail, in which people of all ages and both sexes mingle. Aft er feasting, “when the blood is heated and drink has infl amed the passions of incestuous lust” the lamps are overturned and indiscriminate, incestuous sexual escapades take place in the dark (Oct. 9.6–7). In many respects, then, what we are witnessing with these allegations against Chris- tians is the convergence of several factors: ethnographic stereotypes of the “foreign”

50. Trans. Radice 1969 (LCL). I am not convinced by Robert M. Grant’s suggestion that Pliny may actually have in mind Livy’s account of the Bacchanalia (Grant 1948, 273–74; cf. Grant 1970, 12–17). 51. Trans. Glover and Rendall 1931 (LCL). Caecilius’s opinions may draw on an earlier source by Marcus Cornelius Fronto (ca. 100–166 ce), on which see Oct. 9.6 and Benko 1980, 1081. 176 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians association (e.g., Bacchanalia), common allegations against Judean groups specifi cally, and novelistic or popular stories of the internal threat oft en associated with criminal or low-life anti-associations. Overall, this is part of the process of Greek or Roman self-defi nition by means of external categorizations of foreign peoples or cultural minority groups, in this case Christians. In virtually all the cases in this chapter, the inversion or perversion of the shared meal, along with inherent sacrifi cial connections, stands out as a symbol of the group’s relation to surrounding society, as a sign of an anti-societal threat and the epitome of social and religious disorder. Th e reactions of certain Judeans and Christians, including Tertullian, to such stereotypes can be placed within the context of social identity theory regarding the relation of external categorizations to internal self-defi nition. Jenkins outlines a variety of scenarios in how members of a particular cultural minority group react to and internalize external att empts at categorization, categorizations which may be positive, neutral, or pejorative. Th ere are cases when external categorizations overlap signifi cantly with some internal modes of self-identifi cation, as we saw in connection with Judean gatherings and Christian congregations as associations in chapter 1. In such cases of overlap, there may be ready assimilation of external categories to internal identifi cations and, as Jenkins notes, “some degree of external reinforcement or validation is crucial for the successful maintenance of internal (group) defi nitions.”52 At the other end of the continuum are active att empts to resist or reject negative external categorizations. Th is is what we are seeing in the likes of Justin and Tertullian, who focus on rebutt ing characterizations of Jesus-followers. Yet even in such cases of resistance, the categorization nonetheless plays a role in internal reconfi gurations of self-defi nition: “the very act of defying categorization, of striving for an autonomy of self-identifi cation, is, of course, an eff ect of being categorized in the fi rst place. eTh rejected external defi nition is internalized, but paradoxically, as the focus of denial.”53

Judean and Christian Critique of the Associations of “Others”

Furthermore, there is something that we could call a backlash in the form of moral critique of the associations of others by some Judean and Christian authors. Like the stereotypes about minority groups, this critique also emphasizes disorderly or dangerous convivial activities of the associations of others. Judeans and Christians themselves engaged in ethnic rivalries. Once again, it is by characterizing outside groups as dangerous and barbarous that particular Judean or Christian authors engage in the expression of their own identities over against the stereotyped image of other cultural or ethnic groups, such as Greeks, Romans, Canaanites, and Egyptians. Categorizing others in negative terms contributes towards internal group self-defi nition and the negotiation of boundaries between “us” and “them.” Writing some time in the fi rst century bce or ce, for instance, the author of the Wis- dom of Solomon describes the “detestable” activities of those who inhabited the “holy land”

52. Jenkins 1994, 216. 53. Jenkins 1994, 217. Perceptions of Cultural Minorities 177 before the arrival of the Israelites (the Canaanites, predecessors of the Phoenicians). It seems that this gives this Judean author opportunity to critique contemporary associations or societies of initiates outside of the Judean sphere in the process, calling on the same sort of stereotypes we have seen in Greek or Roman slander against Judeans (with the help of certain passages in the Hebrew Bible which also accuse Canaanites of similar things). God “hated them for practicing the most detestable things—deeds of sorcery and unholy rites (τελετὰς ἀνοσίους), merciless slaughters of children, sacrifi cial feasting on human fl esh and blood—those initiates from the midst of a society (ἐκ μέσου μύστας θιάσου) and parents who murder helpless lives, you willed to destroy . . .” (Wis 12:4–5; cf. Wis 14:15–23).54 At the same time, personifi ed Wisdom herselfis an initiate of another, superior kind, an “initiate (μύστις) in the knowledge of God” (Wis 8:4). Elsewhere the author critiques the “idolatry” of Greeks generally, the “impious ones” (ἀσεβοῦς) who do not know such “divine mysteries” (2:22) and who instead establish their own inferior “mysteries and rites” (μυστήρια καὶ τελετάς; 14:15): “For whether performing ritual murders of children or secret mysteries or frenzied revels connected with strange laws, they no longer keep either their lives or their marriages pure, but they either kill one another by treachery or grieve one another by adultery” (Wis 14:23–24). Once again, ritual murder and sexual perversion con- verge in this characterization of the associations of another ethnic group. Torrey Seland’s (1996) study explores evidence for associations in Philo’s writings, where Philo compares Judean and other associations. Philo paints a negative picture of the associations of outsiders. Th us, for instance, Philo’s account of the gatherings of the Judean therapeutists in Egypt draws out a comparison of the therapeutists’ “synods and symposia” with the “frenzy and madness” of the Greek, Roman, and Egyptian banquets and drinking parties (Vit. Cont. 40–41). For Philo, who views Judean gatherings as associations of a superior kind, the associations of others were “founded on no sound principle but on strong liquor, drunkenness, intoxicated violence and their off spring, wantonness” (Flacc. 136–37).55 In a manner similar to the stories discussed earlier, Philo also accuses non-Judean associations in Egypt of conspiratorial activity: “the associations and synods (ἑταιρείας καὶ συνόδους) [in Alexandria] . . . were constantly holding feasts under pretext of sacrifi ce in which drunkenness vented itself in political intrigue” (Flacc. 4). Philo is also sounding a bit like other upper-class authors such as Pliny the Younger, cited in chapter 1. In fact, in this particular case, Philo is identifying with, and assessing positively, the actions of Flac- cus, the Roman imperial prefect (governor) of Egypt. Flaccus had engaged in actions to control some associations that were under the benefactor Isidoros of Alexandria (another ambassador for the Greeks in opposition to the Judeans); these associations had happened to engage in rivalries with Judean groups in Alexandria (cf. Flacc. 135–45).56 Th is att empt to compare a minority group with associations while simultaneously claiming the superiority of the minority group and the inferiority of outside groups is also refl ected in sections of Tertullian’s Apology. Tertullian defends the Christian association

54. Trans. NETS, with adaptations. 55. Cf. Spec. leg. 2.145–48; Leg. Gai. 312–13. 56. On Isodoros, who went from a supporter of Flaccus to a key opponent, also see the so- called Acts of the Pagan Martyrs (Musurillo 1954, 98, 117–40; cf. Philo Flacc. 137–38). 178 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians (factio, corpus), in part, by portraying other associations negatively. For instance, he claims that fi nancial contributions made by members of Christian associations are “not spent upon banquets nor drinking-parties nor thankless eating-houses,” but on helping the poor and facilitating burial of the dead (Apol. 39.5–6 and 38–39).57 Th ough there may be truth in the fact that drinking was a part of the celebrations of associations, scholars need to refrain from adopting the moralists’ critique as a sign that Greco-Roman or Egyptian associations were all about partying and could not care less about honouring the gods.58 With both Philo and Tertullian, we are witnessing the expression of Judean or Christian identities in relation to the associations in a way that illustrates the internalization of external categorizations that I outlined in chapter 1. As well, we are seeing resistance to certain aspects of other external categorizations such as the stereotypes discussed here.

Struggles between Different Minority Groups: Intergroup Rivalries among Christians

Th ere are also times when these ethnographic discourses and rivalries play a role in internal struggles and boundary defi nitions among diff erent cultural minority groups. Early Chris- tian groups, for instance, struggled to establish their own legitimacy and fi nd a place for themselves in contradistinction to other followers of Jesus whose practices they considered unacceptable, dangerous, or “heretical” in some way.59 Here there are similar strategies in the social categorization of others as part of the process of group self-defi nition and diff erentiation. Epiphanius’s fourth-century rhetorical att acks on the supposed devilish rituals of the Christian Phibionites is among the most extreme cases.60 Th ere Epiphanius describes in gory detail how “they even foul their assembly, if you please, with dirt from promiscuous fornication; and they eat and handle both human fl esh and uncleanness” Pan.( 26.3.3).61 Th e account in Panarion (26.3.3–5.7) culmi- nates in Epiphanius’s discussion of this group’s supposed ritual slaughter and consumption of the unwanted fetuses that resulted from the sexual rites of the group. Yet the Christian groups that, ultimately, became marginalized and lost the struggle also made use of similar charges against other followers of Jesus. Th e second-century Gos- pel of Judas is a case in point. Th is is among the documents oft en labelled “gnostic,” and it shares in common with other writings of this type the notion that the Judean god of the Bible who created this world (the demiurge, named “Saklas” in this writing) is not the same

57. Trans. Glover and Rendall 1931 (LCL). 58. Nilsson 1957 is among those who tend to adopt the moralistic critique of ancient authors. See Harland 2003a, 55–87; Dennis E. Smith 2003. 59. See Dölger 1934, 217–23. On the Montanists’ sacrifi ce of children, see, for instance, Philas- trius Diversarum hereseon 49.5; Epiphanius Panarion 48.14.5–6; Cyril of Jerusalem Catech. 16.8. Th e Manichees were also charged with “sacrifi cing men in demonic mysteries” (Th eodore bar Konai [seventh cent. ce]; Adam 1969). 60. Now see Frankfurter 2006, 104–8. 61. Trans. Williams 1997, 84. Perceptions of Cultural Minorities 179 benevolent God who sent Christ. In this document, the author criticizes other Christian groups by way of the image of the eleven disciples of Jesus. Th ese disciples are portrayed as fatally misunderstanding Jesus and the God who sent Jesus, and they are portrayed as devoted instead to the demiurge, the malevolent creator of the world. In this sett ing, there is an episode where Jesus interprets a dream that Jesus’ disciples had about twelve priests making sacrifi ces in the temple:

Jesus said, “What are [the priests] like?” Th ey [said, “Some] were. . . [for] two weeks. [Others] were sacrifi cing their own children. Others were sacrifi cing their wives as a gift [and] they were humiliating each other. Some were sleeping with men. Some were [committ ing murder]. Yet others were committ ing a number of sins and lawless acts. And the men standing [beside] the altar [were] calling upon your [Name]. (Gos. Judas 39.12–23)62

Jesus then interprets the dream as referring to these very disciples who claim to follow Jesus but are, in fact, far from him: “Jesus said to them, ‘You are those you saw who presented the off erings upon the altar . . .’ ” (Gos. Judas 39.18–20). Here the author is accusing Christians who do not hold his own particular views regarding the distinction between the demiurge (God of the Judeans) and the God who sent Christ. He draws on ethnographic discourses that characterize their activities as the equivalent of ritual murder of women and children and of what the author of the Gospel of Judas considers sexual perversity.

Conclusions

Th is trio of ritual atrocity (human sacrifi ce, cannibalism, and sexual perversion) has a long history in discourses of the other, in negative social categorizations, and in processes of identity negotiation. Th e trio raises its head again not only in accusations against Jews, “heretics,” and witches in the medieval and early modern periods, for instance, but also in the more recent “Satanic ritual abuse” scare of the 1980s, as recently discussed by David Frankfurter.63 Frankfurter notes how even academic scholarship has sometimes bought into the rhetoric of such charges, including the ancient cases we have been discussing. Th us, scholars might (in less blatant terms) join with Franz Cumont in speaking of the “return to savagery” characteristic of mystery cults, or that, with the “adoption of the Oriental mysteries, barbarous, cruel and obscene practices were undoubtedly spread.”64 Essentially, this refl ects the rhetoric of the likes of Livy about threatening and abhorrent foreign rites in a new guise. In a similar vein and also in connection with “mysteries” (in Lollianos), Henrichs expressed a belief that “even slanderous accounts of ritual performances can be used as reliable evidence of actual religious practices in antiquity if interpreted properly, and that

62. Trans. DeConick 2007, 71–72. 63. Frankfurter 2001, 352–81, now discussed more fully in Frankfurter 2006. 64. Cumont 1956, 6; see Frankfurter 2001, 363–65. 180 Dynamics of Identity in the World of the Early Christians the uniform patt ern in the various rumors of ritual murder points to concrete rites that were celebrated by ethnic or tribal minorities.”65 Henrichs does seem to back away from accepting such descriptions as realistic in a later publication that deals with human sacrifi ce, however. 66 Stephen Benko gives credence to accounts of wild sexual and commensal activities, even the most extreme ones described in Epiphanius’s critique of the Phibionites.67 In this problematic view, such accounts refer to actual rituals that were practiced in some fringe groups. It should be noted that these scholars did not necessarily have available the important sociological and anthropological work that has been done on processes of external categorization and group defi nition, which have informed my own approach. Th e approach here has been to emphasize the manner in which charges of wild transgression are part of more encompassing discourses that refl ect the methods and rhetoric of ancient ethnography in order to describe and distance the foreign “other” from one’s own cultural or ethnic group. In the process of defi ning one’s own group, the activities of others are defi ned as dangerous inversions of good order. Th e anti-association or anti- banquet idea is part of this overall strategy. Th ese ancient discourses are best understood within the framework of intergroup rivalries, identity construction, and group-boundary negotiation. In light of this understanding of the charges in terms of identity theory and discourses of the other, it is important to reiterate some meanings of these discourses. Douglas’s anthropological work has taught us how views of the body, including issues of the consumption of food, refl ect views of society and the boundaries within and around society.68 Moreover, the boundaries that are violated in the ritual murder and consumption of fellow-humans can symbolize the destruction of society itself. It is the prior understanding of the other as a dangerous threat to society that leads ancient authors, whether in history or fi ction, to draw on a common stockpile of typical antisocietal actions, cannibalism as the ultimate off ence. Allegations of destroying and consuming humanity itself are another way of reinforcing the notion that these groups should be labeled as criminal or barbaric threats. Within the context of such discourses, small groups of outlaws or associations of foreigners specifi cally can play a noteworthy role in representing the alien or criminal threat within society. Banqueting practices played an important role in discourses of identity, in which certain authors, representative in some ways of their ethnic or cultural group, engaged in the process of defi ning their own groups as civilized by alienating another as barbarous. Th ese authors of both fi ction and history played on what was commonly expected or pious behaviour within associations by presenting alien associations or low-life criminal guilds as the inversion of all that was pious and right. Ritual murder and the accompanying cannibalistic meal, symbolic of inverting piety and destroying society itself, stand out as the epitome of the anti-banquet. Tales of this sort, informed by ethnographic discourses, were frightening precisely because they represented a distortion of the goals of most associa-

65. Henrichs 1970, 33. 66. Do see Henrichs’s (1978, 121–60) more cautious approach to maenads and the supposed eating of raw fl esh, however. 67. Benko 1980, 1087–89. 68. Douglas 1973. Perceptions of Cultural Minorities 181 tions and groups, namely, the intimately related goals of appropriately honouring the gods (through sacrifi ce) and feasting with friends. Sometimes, both Judean synagogues and Christian congregations were targets of this technique of defi ning oneself over against the other, primarily because of the foreignness of their nonparticipation in honouring, or sacrifi cing to, the Greek or Roman gods, because of their att ention to just one, foreign god (their monotheism or monolatrism). In part, it was this failure to acknowledge the gods of others or to honour any gods beyond the Judean God that set Judeans and followers of Jesus apart as cultural minority groups. Sometimes, though not always, these diff erences in cultural practice drew the att ention of specifi c outsiders more than the similarities that led to the view that Judean gatherings and Christians congregations were associations of the usual type. Th is study has shown that Judeans and Christians were very much a part of intergroup relations in the ancient Mediterranean context, relations that facilitated the construction and reformulation of identities among various associations and communities. Conclusion

Th is book has explored issues of identity in the world of the early Christians using local archeological and epigraphic evidence and literary sources for associations as a window into that world. Th ere are many other ways to approach the question of early Christian identities within Greco-Roman contexts, and this study has pursued only certain, neglected pieces of the larger puzzle. Answers to the question who are we or who am I in relation to this group varied from one person, group, or situation to the next, and group identities could and did evolve over time. Dynamics of identity, whether ethnic or social, are helpfully explained in terms of both internal self-defi nition and externalcategorizations. Both outside observers and members of Judean gatherings and Christian congregations oft en recognized these groups as associations, even though they were associations with a peculiar twist relating to their focus on honouring the Judean God (alongside Jesus in the case of Christians) to the exclusion of other Greek and Roman deities. Th is twist is something that allows the social historian to speak of these particular associations as cultural minorities and to draw on other social-scientifi c tools for studying ethnic and minority groups. Josephus and Philo demonstrate the ways in which Judean gatherings were understood within the framework of societies (thiasoi) and synods in the Greco-Roman context, as well as the tendency of Judeans, like others, to present their own groups as superior to their rivals. Perceptions among authors such as Pliny the Younger, Lucian, and Celsus further demonstrate how outsiders and even imperial authorities could view Christian groups with the association as a principal model. Th is is the case despite peculiarities that might on occasion lead a particular upper-class Roman to dismiss such associations as “superstitions” or as secretive or dangerous associations. From the inside, Ignatius of Antioch clarifi es similar internal patt erns of defi nition relating to association life as he draws on local cultural life to express the identities of the Christian congregations in Asia Minor in terms of groups of initiates with their own, superior mysteries. Metaphors drawn from local processions, including the image of bearing holy objects, further facilitate Ignatius’s expression of Christian identity in ways that place these congregations within the familiar world of associations in western Asia Minor. Internal processes of self-defi nition are integral to any understanding of group identities. Th e Greco-Roman social model of the family played a signifi cant role for internal modes of identifi cation among membersof certain associations, including but not limited to some Christian congregations and Judean gatherings. It is, therefore, problematic

182 Conclusion 183 to interpret family and brother language within Christian groups as a further sign that all Christian groups should be categorized as sects. Th ese areas of common ground in expressing belonging and hierarchies within a group demonstrate ways in which congregations and gatherings were part of a larger cultural framework in the Roman Empire. Comparative investigations into immigrant groups or ethnic associations provide important insights into ethnic identity and acculturation in the world of Judeans and Chris- tians. Th e case study of Syrians and Phoenicians abroad clarifi ed associational tendencies among immigrants in cities during the Hellenistic and Roman eras. Examining such groups off ered further insight into self-defi nition as certain groups maintained and communicated specifi c ethnic identities within a host society. Continuing connections with the homeland and its cultural ways, including devotion to the “ancestral gods,” illustrate some of the ways in which ethnic groups continued to defi ne themselves in relation to their original homeland. Judean gatherings were, therefore, not alone as ethnic groups with their own distinctive customs and identities that set them apart in certain ways from other groups in the same social sett ing. Alongside these areas of cultural maintenance and diff erentiation, however, were signs of acculturation and assimilation within local cultural and social life among certain associations of Syrians, Berytians, Tyrians, and others. Participation in social networks and interaction with people from other ethnic groups, for instance, point to signifi cant areas of assimilation and integration within the host society. Cultural exchanges go both ways. Certain people from outside the ethnic group were involved in honouring ancestral gods of Syrian towns, or even att ended meetings of these ethnic associations. Such evidence points to certain degrees of enculturation into the ways of the ethnic group on the part of outsiders. Here, too, the Syrian associations off er a helpful analogy for understanding the evidence for Judean gatherings’ varying degrees of interaction with local cultural and social structures and for contextualizing the involvements of certain non-Judeans (gentiles or god-fearers) in Judean cultural practices and social connections. Evidence for the maintenance of ethnic identities and att achments to the homeland, on the one hand, and areas of integration within local society, on the other, problema- tize general theories of rootlessness and detachment among immigrant populations in the ancient Mediterranean. Further comparative studies of such ethnic groups and diasporas may help to map out Judean and other immigrant populations. Looking at Judean families at a particular locale, Hierapolis, provided further insight into both cultural maintenance and certain levels of integration within local society on the part of such cultural minority groups. Th e case of the family of Glykon illustrates the potential for multiple affi liations and multiple identities not only on the part of this family, but also on the part of the primarily non-Judean guilds who continued to remember Glykon and his family on both Judean and Roman holidays. Here again interactions took place between members of diff erent ethnic or cultural groups with resulting acculturation or enculturation for those involved. Th e Judean graves from Hierapolis in the second and third centuries demonstrate areas of cultural and structural assimilation as families looked to local civic institutions as authorities and adopted or adapted local customs in burial arrangements. At the same time, many continued to clearly identify themselves as Judeans in various ways, including open identifi cation as “Judeans,” celebration of Judean holy days, and the use of Judean symbols such as the menorah on family graves. Th e formation of 184 Conclusion associations of Judeans is itself a clear indication of att achments to the homeland and a means by which certain dimensions of ethnic identities could be strengthened and displayed in the diaspora. Positive interactions among diff erent groups or certain levels of integration within local society did not preclude areas of tension or rivalry, however. In some respects, involvement in rivalries and competition was a structural feature of social life in Greek cities of the eastern Roman Empire. So the participation of Judean gatherings and Christian congregations in rivalrous interchanges with others is in some sense normal and expected, at least to some degree. Associations in Sardis and Smyrna engaged in competition within social networks of benefaction, both as recipients of support and as donors. Claims of superiority or preeminence for the group or its god were not unusual within this context of the struggle for honour, recognition, and position within local society. Furthermore, associations of various kinds were, to diff erent degrees, competitors for members or for the loyalties of the members they had. Th e evidence for multiple memberships or affi liations points to a plurality of identities, including ethnic identities. As individuals found themselves within diff erent situations at diff erent times, one or another identity would play a more signifi cant role than other identities. Suggestive evidence points to the involvement of some Judeans and Christians within multiple groups despite calls for exclusivity on the part of certain leaders, such as the author of John’s Revelation. Th e minority cultural positions or ethnic identities of certain associations led, on occasion, to negative external categorizations that further illustrate rivalries among diff erent groups. Th e case of stereotypes regarding Syrians and Phoenicians set the stage for a discussion of other more general categorizations and stereotypes. Although they should not be exaggerated, such stereotypes were signifi cant for identity negotiation when they were expressed and when members of the categorized group reacted to such negative stereotypes. Ethnic and minority groups that were perceived as “foreign” could be understood by certain outsiders in terms of what I have called the “anti-association,” the dangerous and alien association within our midst. Accusations of human sacrifi ce, cannibalism, and sexual perversion were among the most striking stereotypes aimed at “foreign” peoples or minority groups, including Judeans and Christians. Such negative characterizations of the “other” by certain people would potentially facilitate negative actions against such “dangerous” or “alien” peoples on particular occasions. Th is is demonstrated in local and sporadic persecutions of Christians, for instance. Th e Christians had the added factor of their Judean connections involving a general rejection of the gods of others, which also led some outsiders to label them impious “atheists.” It is not surprising to fi nd such accusations in accounts of persecution, such as the account of the Christians at Lyons who were charged with Th yestean feasts and Oedipean unions and the Christians at Smyrna (ca. 160 ce) who were charged with atheism. In this respect, Christians, like Judeans and some other foreigners, were involved within the framework of ethnic rivalries. Th ese rivalries were expressed not only within ancient ethnographic materials produced by the elites, but also, on occasion, within everyday social interactions on the ground. Yet these cultural minority groups were not merely targets in such processes of identity construction. Th ey also engaged in similar techniques of internal self-defi nition Conclusion 185 through stereotyping the “other,” including other associations. Th us, on occasion, Philo defi nes Judean associations by caricaturingthe associations of others (Egyptians, Greeks) as dangerous, conspiratorial, drunken revels. And the author of the Wisdom of Solomon calls on the usual trio of atrocities in speaking of the mysteries of outsiders (e.g., Greeks, Romans, and Egyptians) in terms of human sacrifi ce, cannibalism, and sexual perversion. Similar techniques of self-defi nition and diff erentiation are found among certain Christian authors who sought to distinguish themselves from other Christian groups that these authors considered dangerous or impious heretics. Epiphanius’s description of the Phibionites, on the one hand, and the Gospel of Judas’s description of Christians who claimed att achments to Jesus’ “inferior” disciples, on the other, illustrate these processes of identity negotiation that involve discourses of ethnicity. Th is study has focussed on what was common among many groups while also paying att ention to certain distinctive features of ethnic groups and cultural minorities. Th e att ention to shared modes of identity construction, negotiation, and communication is not meant to suggest that Christians were not unique. However, Christians were unique or distinctive insofar as every association, minority group, or ethnic group was unique or distinctive, each in its own way. Among the distinctive characteristics of Christians and Judeans that stood out to many insiders and outsiders was their att ention to one, Judean God to the exclusion of other deities. Th is also entailed refraining from involvement in certain social sett ings where those other gods were honoured. Th is distinction was a potential source of tensions with many other groups and individuals within their contexts, and it could lead to social harassment and persecution on particular occasions. Still, despite this highlighted characteristic that makes a concept such as cultural minority group applicable to both Judean gatherings and Christian congregations, these groups were recognizable to many outsiders as another instance of the association, synod, or society. Whether viewed as an association or an anti-association by particular outsiders on specifi c occasions, some of these cultural minority groups were more or less integrated than others within local social and cultural life in the cities of the Roman Empire. Abbreviations

Epigraphic and Papyrological Collections Cited in the Text

(Based on the abbreviations listed in the following publications) Horsley, G. H. R., and John A. L. Lee. 1994. “A Preliminary Checklist of Abbreviations of Greek Epigraphic Volumes.” Epigraphica 56:129–69. Oates, John F., William H. Willis, et al., eds., Checklist of Editions of Greek, Latin, Demotic and Coptic Papyri, Ostraca, and Tablets. , accessed September 2009.

AE Cagnat, Merlin, et al. 1888– BE Haussoullier, Reinach, et al. 1888– BGU Schubart, Kühn, et al. 1895– CCCA Vermaseren 1987 CIG Boeckh 1828–77 CIJ Frey 1936–52 CIL Mommsen, Lommatzsch, et al. 1893 CIMRM Vermaseren 1956–60 CIRB Struve 1965 CIS Academie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lett res 1881– CPJ Tcherikover and Fuks 1957–64 DFSJ Lifshitz 1967 GIBM Hicks, Hirschfeld, et al. 1874–1916 IAlexandria Kayser 1994 IAlexTroas Ricl 1997 IApamBith Corsten 1987 IAphrodSpect Roueché 1993 IAsMinLyk I Benndorf and Niemann 1884 ICarie Robert and Robert 1954 IDelos Roussel and Launey 1937 IDelosChoix Dürrbach 1921 IDidyma Rehm 1958 IEgJud Horbury and Noy 1992

186 Abbreviations 187 IEph Engelmann, Wankel, et al. 1979–84 IErythrai Engelmann, Merkelbach 1972–74 IEurJud Noy 1993–95 IFayum Bernand 1975–1981 IG Gaertringen, Lewis, et al. 1873– IGBulg Mihailov 1958–70 IGLAM Le Bas and Waddington 1972 [1870] IGLSkythia Pippidi and Russu 1983– IGLSyria Sartre 1982 IGR Cagnat, Toutain, et al. 1906–27 IGUR Morett i 1968–91 IHierapJ Judeich 1898 IHierapMir Miranda 1999a IHierapPenn Pennacchiett i 1966–67 IIasos Blümel 1985 IJO I Noy, Panayotov, et al. 2004 IJO II Noy, Bloedhorn, et al. 2004 IJO III Ameling 2004 IKilikiaBM Bean and Mitford 1965, 1970 IKlaudiupolis Becker-Bertau 1986 IKos Hicks and Paton 1891 IKosSegre Segre 1993 IKyzikos Schwertheim 1980– ILaodikeia Robert 1969 ILindos Blinkenberg 1941 ILydiaKP I Keil and Premerstein 1910 ILydiaKP III Keil and Premerstein 1914 IMagnMai Kern 1900 IMagnSip Ihnken 1978 IMiletos Wiegend, Kawerau, et al. 1889–1997 IMylasa Blümel 1987–88 INikaia Sahin 1979–87 IPergamon Fränkel 1890–95 IPerge Sahin 1999–2004 IPerinthos Sayar 1998 IPontEux Latyschev 1965 [1890–1901] IPriene Gaertringen 1906 IPrusaOlymp Corsten 1991 IPrusiasHyp Ameling 1985 IRhodM Maiuri 1925 IRomJud Noy 1993–1995 ISardBR Buckler and Robinson 1932 ISardH Herrmann 1996 ISelge Nollé and Schindler 1991 ISmyrna Petzl 1982–90 188 Abbreviations IStratonikeia Sahin 1982–90 ITralles Poljakov 1989 LSAM Sokolowski 1955 LSCG Sokolowski 1962 MAMA Keil, Buckler, et al. 1928– NewDocs Horsley and Llewelyn 1981–2002 OClaud Bingen, Bülow-Jacobsen, et al. 1992–2000 OGIS Ditt enberger 1903–1905 PAmherst Grenfell and Hunt 1900–1901 PLond Kenyon, Bell, Skeat 1893–1974 PMich Edgar, Boak, et al. 1931– POxy Egypt Exploration Fund 1898– PParis Letronne, de Presle, et al. 1865 PPetaus Hagedorn, Hagedorn, et al. 1969 PRyl Johnson, Martin, et al. 1911–52 PSI Vitelli, Norsa, et al. 1912–1979 PTebtunis Grenfell, Hunt, et al. 1902–76 PTh mouis Kmabitsis 1985 PTor Peyron 1827 SB Preisigke, Bilabel, et al. 1915– SEG Roussel, Salav, et al. 1923– SIRIS Vidman 1969 TAM Kalinka, Heberdey, et al. 1920– UPZ Wilcken 1927–57

Journal and Series Abbreviations in the Bibliography

Abbreviations of journals and series follow the listing in the SBL Handbook of Style. Addi- tional abbreviations are listed below.

AncSoc Ancient Society EA Epigraphica Anatolica ERS Ethnic and Racial Studies IGSK Inschrift en griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien MDAI(A) Mitt eilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts (Athen. Abt.) RGRW Religion in the Greco-Roman World RPh Revue de philologie, de litt érature et d’histoire anciennes Bibliography

1. Epigraphic and Papyrological Collections

Academie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lett res. 1881. Corpus inscriptionum semiticarum. Paris: Academie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lett res. Ameling, Walter. 1985. Die Inschrift en von Prusias ad Hypium. IGSK 27. Bonn: Rudolf Habelt. ———. 2004. Inscriptiones Judaicae Orientis: Band II Kleinasien. TSAJ 99. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Bean, G. E., and J. M. Cook. 1955. “Th e Halicarnassus Peninsula.” Annual of the British School at Athens 50:85–174. Bean, George E., and Terence Bruce Mitford. 1962. “Sites Old and New in Rough Cilicia.” Anatolian Studies 12:185–217. ———, and Terence Bruce Mitford. 1965. Journeys in Rough Cilicia 1962 and 1963 [Part I]. Denkschrift en der österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaft en in Wien, philosophisch-historische Klasse 85. Vienna: Hermann Böhlaus. ———, and Terence Bruce Mitford. 1970. Journeys in Rough Cilicia 1964–1968 [Part II]. Denkschrift en der österreichi schen Akademie der Wissenschaft en in Wien, philosophisch-historische Klasse 102.3. Vienna: Hermann Böhlaus. Becker-Bertau, Friedrich. 1986. Die Inschrift en von Klaudiu polis. IGSK 31. Bonn: Rudolf Habelt. Benndorf, O., and G. Niemann. 1884. Reisen in Lykien und Karien. Reisen im Südwestlichen Kleinasien 1. Vienna: Codex-Verlag. Bernand, Étienne. 1975–81. Recueil des inscriptions grecques du Fayoum. Bibliothèque d’Étude 79–80. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale du Caire. Bingen, J., et al. 1992–2000. Mons Claudianus: Ostraca graeca et latina. Institut Fran- çais d’Archéologie Orientale, Documents de Fouilles 29. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale. Blinkenberg, C. 1941. Lindos: Fouilles de l’acropole 1902–1914: II Inscriptions. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Blümel, Wolfgang. 1985. Die Inschrift en von Iasos. IGSK 28. Bonn: Rudolf Habelt. ———. 1987–88. Die Inschrift en von Mylasa. IGSK 35. Bonn: Rudolf Habelt. Boeckh, Augustine. 1828–77. Corpus inscriptionum graecarum. Berolini: Georg Reimeri Libraria.

189 190 Bibliography Buckler, W. H. 1913. “Monuments de Th yatire.” RPh 37:289–331. ———, and D. M. Robinson. 1932. Sardis. Publications of the American Society for the Exca- vation of Sardis: Vol. 7, Greek and Latin Inscriptions. Leiden: E. J. Brill. Buresch, Karl. 1898. Aus Lydien: Epigraphisch-geographische Reisefr üchte. Leipzig: B. G. Teubner. Cagnat, R., et al. 1888. L’Année Épigraphique. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. ———, J. Toutain, P. Jovgvet, and G. Lafaye. 1906–27. Inscriptiones graecae ad res romanas pertinentes. Paris: E. Leroux. Chapouthier, Fernand. 1924. “Némésis et Niké.” BCH 48:287–303. Clerc, M. 1885. “Inscription de Nysa.” BCH 9:124–31. Conze, A., and C. Schuchhardt. 1899. “Die Arbeiten zu Pergamon.” MDAI(A) 24:164–240. Corsten, Th omas. 1987. Die Inschrift en von Apameia (Bithynien) und Pylai. IGSK 32. Bonn: Rudolf Habelt. ———. 1991 Inschrift en von Prusa ad Olympum. IGSK 39. Bonn: Rudolf Habelt. Cousin, G., and C. H. Diehl. 1890. “Inscriptions d’Halicarnasse.” BCH 14:90–121. ———, and G. Deschamps. 1894. “ Voyage de Milet à Marmara.” BCH 18:18–32. Dagron, Gilbert, and Dennis Feissel. 1987. Inscriptions de Cilicie. Travaux et mémoires du Centre de Recherche d’Histoire et Civilisation de Byzance 4. Paris: de Boccard. Ditt enberger, Wilhelm. 1903–5. Orientis graeci inscriptiones selectae: Supplementum sylloge inscriptionum graecarum. Leipzig: S. Hirzel. Doublet, G. 1889. “Inscriptions de Paphlagonie.” BCH 13:293–319. Dürrbach, Felix. 1921. Choix d’inscriptions de Délos: avec traduction et commentaire. Paris: E. Leroux. Edgar, C. C., A. E. R. Boak, J. G. Winter, and H. C. Youtie. 1931. Michigan Papyri. University of Michigan Studies. Humanistic Series. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Egypt Exploration Fund. 1898. Th e Oxyrhynchus Papyri. London: Egypt Exploration Fund. Engelmann, Helmut, H. Wankel, and R. Merkelbach. 1979–84. Die Inschrift en von Ephesos. IGSK 11–17. Bonn: Rudolf Habelt. ———, and Reinhold Merkelbach. 1972–74. Die Inschrift en von Erythrai und Klazomenai. IGSK 1. Bonn: Rudolf Habelt. Fränkel, Max. 1890–95. Die Inschrift en von Pergamon. Altertümer von Pergamon 8.1–2. Ber- lin: W. Spemann. Frey, Jean-Baptiste. 1936–52. Corpus inscriptionum iudaicarum. Sussidi allo studio delle anichità cristiane 3. Rome: Pontifi cio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana. Gaertringen, F. Hiller von. 1906. Die Inschrift en von Priene. Königliche Museen zu Berlin. Berlin: Georg Reimer. ———, et al. 1873. Inscriptiones graecae, consilio et auctoritate Acadamiae Litt erarum Borus- sicae editae. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Gibson, Elsa. 1978. Th e “Christians for Christians” Inscriptions of Phrygia: Greek Texts, Trans- lation and Commentary. HTS 32. Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press. Grenfell, Bernard P., and A. S. Hunt. 1900–1901. Th e Amherst Papyri. London: H. Frowde. ———, et al. 1902–76. Th e Tebtunis Papyri. University of California Publications, Graeco- Roman Archaeology 2. London: Henry Frowde. Bibliography 191 Hagedorn, Ursula, Dieter Hagedorn, Louise C. Youtie, and Herbert C. Youtie. 1969. Das Archiv des Petaus (P.Petaus). Papyrologica Coloniensia 4. Cologne: Westdeutscher Verlag. Haussoullier, B., et al. 1888. “Bulletin Épigraphique.” REG. Hepding, H. 1907. “Die Arbeiten zu Pergamon 1904–1905: II. Die Inschrift en.” MDAI(A) 32:241–377. Herrmann, Peter. 1996. “Mystenvereine in Sardeis.” Chiron 26:315–41. Hicks, E. L., C. T. Newton, Gustav Hirschfeld, and F. H. Marshall. 1874–1916. Th e Collection of Ancient Greek Inscriptions in the British Museum. Oxford: Clarendon. ———, and W. R . Paton. 1891. Th e Inscriptions of Cos. Oxford: Clarendon. Horbury, William, and David Noy. 1992. Jewish Inscriptions of Graeco-Roman Egypt. Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press. Horsley, G. H. R., and S. R. Llewelyn. 1981–2002. New Documents Illustrating Early Chris- tianity. North Ryde, Australia: Ancient History Documentary Research Centre, Macquarie University. Hörig, Monika, and Elmar Schwertheim. 1987. Corpus Cultus Iovis Dolicheni (CCID). Leiden: Brill. Ihnken, Th omas. 1978. Die Inschrift en von Magnesia am Sipylos. IGSK 8. Bonn: Rudolf Habelt. Johnson, J. M., V. Martin, et al. 1911–52. Catalogue of the Greek Papyri in the John Rylands Library, Manchester. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Judeich, Walther. 1898. “Inschrift en.” In Altertümer von Hierapolis, ed. Carl Humann, Con- rad Cichorius, Walther Judeich, and Franz Winter, 67–180. Jahrbuch des kaiserlich deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Ergänzungsheft 4. Berlin: Georg Reimer. Kalinka, Ernst. 1906. Antike Denkmäler in Bulgarien. Schrift en der Balkankommission Anti- quarische Abteilung 4. Vienna: Alfred Hölder. ———, et al. 1920–89. Tituli Asiae Minoris collecti et editi auspiciis academiae litt erarum aus- triacae. Vienna: Academiam Scientiarum Austriacam. Kayser, François. 1994. Recueil des inscriptions grecques et latines (non funéraires) d’Alexandrie impériale. Bibliothèque d’Étude 108. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale du Caire. Keil, Josef, and Anton von Premerstein. 1910. Bericht über eine Reise in Lydien und der süd- lichen Aiolis. Denkschrift en der kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaft en in Wien, philosophisch-historische Klasse 53.2. Vienna: Alfred Hölder. ———, and Anton von Premerstein. 1911. Bericht über zweite Reise in Lydien. Denkschrift en der kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaft en in Wien, philosophisch-historische Klasse 54.2. Vienna: Alfred Hölder. ———, and Anton von Premerstein. 1914. Bericht über dritt e Reise in Lydien. Denkschrift en der kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaft en in Wien, philosophisch-historische Klasse 57.1. Vienna: Alfred Hölder. ———, C. W. M. Cox , et al. 1928. Monumenta asiae minoris antiqua. Publications of the American Society for Archaeological Research in Asia Minor/JRSM. Manchester/ London: Manchester University Press/Society for the Promotion of Roman Studies. Kenyon, F. G., H. I. Bell, and T.C. Skeat. 1893–1974. Greek Papyri in the British Museum. Oxford: University Press. 192 Bibliography Kern, Ott o. 1900. Die Inschrift en von Magnesia am Maeander. Königliche Museen zu Berlin. Berlin: W. Spemann. Kmabitsis, S. 1985. Le Papyrus Th mouis 1, colonnes 68–160. Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne. Kroll, John H. 2001. “Th e Greek Inscriptions of the Sardis Synagogue.” HTR 94:5–55. Labarre, Guy, and Marie-Th érèse Le Dinahet. 1996. “Les metiers du textile en Asie Mineure de l’époque hellénistique a l’époque imperiale.” In Aspects de l’artisanat du textile dans le monde Méditerranéen (Egypte, Grèce, monde romain), 49–115. Collection de l’Institut d’Archéologie et d’Histoire de l’Antiquité, Université Lumière-Lyon 2. Paris: de Boccard. Laminger-Pascher, Gertrud. 1992. Die kaiserzeitlichen Inschrift en Lykaoniens. Faszikel I: Der Süden. 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Corpus jüdischer Zeugnisse aus der Cyrenaika. Beiheft e zum Tübinger Atlas des vorderen Orients. Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert Verlag. Macridy, T. 1904. “À travers les nécropoles sidoniennes.” RB 13:547–72. Maiuri, A. 1925. Nuova silloge epigrafi ca di Rodi e Cos. Florence: Univ. di Firenze. Malay, Hasan. 1994. Greek and Latin Inscriptions in the Manisa Museum. Ergänzungsbände zu den Tituli Asiae Minoris 19. Vienna: Verlag der österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaft en. McCabe, Donald F. 1986. Samos Inscriptions. Texts and Lists. Princeton Project on the Inscriptions of Anatolia. Princeton, NJ: Institute for Advanced Study. Merkelbach, Reinhold. 1979. “Die ephesischen Dionysosmysten vor der Stadt.” ZPE 36:151–56. Mihailov, Georgius. 1958–70. Inscriptiones graecae in Bulgaria repertae. Institutum Archaeo- logicum, Series Epigraphica 6. Sofi a: Academia Litt erarum Bulgarica. Miranda, E. 1999a. “La Comunità Giudaica di Hierapolis di Frigia.” EA 31:109–55. ———. 1999b. Le iscrizioni giudaiche di Hierapolis di Frigia. Naples. Mommsen, Th eodor, E. Lommatzsch, A. Degrassi, and A. U. Stylow. 1893. Corpus inscriptionum latinarum consilio et auctoritate Academiae Litt erarum Refi ae Borussicae. Berlin: Georgium Reimerum. Morett i, L. 1968–91. Inscriptiones graecae urbis romae. Studi pubblicati dall’Istituto Italiano per la Storia Antica 17. Rome: Istututo Italiano per la Storia Antica. Bibliography 193 Newton, C. T., and R. P. Pullan. 1862–63. A History of Discoveries at Halicarnassus, Cnidus and Branchidæ. London: Day & Son. Nollé, Johannes, and Friedel Schindler. 1991. Die Inschrift en von Selge. IGSK 37. Bonn: Rudolf Habelt. Noy, David. 1993–95. Jewish Inscriptions of Western Europe. Cambridge: Cambridge Univer- sity Press. ———, Alexander Panayotov, and Hanswulf Bloedhorn. 2004. Inscriptiones Judaicae Ori- entis: Volume I. Eastern Europe. TSAJ 101. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. ———, and Hanswulf Bloedhorn. 2004. Inscriptiones Judaicae Orientis: Volume III. 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New Testament 1:9–10 18 3 John 2:1 64 6 45 Matt hew 2:9 35 9 45 5:22–23 64 3:2 64 10 45 12:49 64 4:1 64 15 45 4:9 71 Acts 4:9–12 35 Revelation 20 2:29 64 5:1, 4, 12 64 2:6 158 3:17 64 2:14–17 158 11:14 35 Philemon 2:19–23 158 13:15 64 2 13:15 158 35 16:14–15 139 Other Early Christian 16:15 35 Hebrews Texts 18:2–3 139 13:1 71 18:8 35 Aristides of Athens James Apology Romans 8 1:2 64 2.2 17 6:10–16 35 2:1 64 15 17 12:10 71 3:1 64 Augustine 1 Corinthians 1 Peter 13, 17, 42 De civitate Dei 8–10 158 1:22 71 6.10–11 15 16:19 35 2:9–10 17 Clement of Alexandria 2:17 64 Exhortation to Galatians 8 3:8 70, 71 the Greeks 4 52 3–4 47 Philippians 3–5 17 Cyril of Jerusalem 3:20 41 4:1–5 18 Catecheses 5:9 17, 64 16.8 178 Colossians 4:13 141 2 Peter Didache 4:15 35 1:7 71 6.3 158

1 Th essalonians 1 John Diognetus 1:4 64 3:13–16 64 5.1–5 17

220 Ancient Sources 221 Epiphanius Dialogue with Trypho Judean Texts Panarion 123.9 18 26.3.3 178 b. Abod. Zar. 26.3.3–5.7 178 Martyrdom of Polycarp 1.3 134 48.14.5–6 178 3.2 18 9.2 18 Damascus Document Eusebius 4Q270 7 I 13–15 83 Historia ecclesiastica Minucius Felix 3.31.3 141 Josephus Octavius 3.36.1–2 141 Antiquities 8.3 175 4.26.1 141 10.94–95 142 8.3–4 175 5.1.3–5.2.8 175 12.258–264 113 9.2–4 175 8.10 52 12.258–264a 108 9.5–6 175 10.1.8 43 13.254–256 114 9.6 175 14.185–267 37 Gospel of Judas 178 9.6–7 175 14.213–216 37 39.12–23 179 14.231–232 113 39.18–20 179 Origen 14.235 38 Contra Celsum 14.256–58 130 Ignatius 1.1 44 14.259–261 38, 146 Ephesians 3.23 44 16.160–178 37 4 47 3.55 35, 44 16.166, 171 39 9.1–2 52 8.17 44 16.171 146 9.2 48 16.45 130 10.3 64 Philastrius 17.254 14 12.2 48 Diversarum Hereseon 18.12ff . 36 16.1 64 49.5 178 Contra Apionem 19.1 48 174 19.1–3 49 Polycarp 2.91–96 174 21.1 49 Philippians War Magnesians 13.2 48 1.146 16 9.1 48 2.119 36 9.1–2 49 2.122 67 15.1 49 Tertullian 2.232 14 Philadelphians Apology 1.2 47 8 77, 92 2 Kings Polycarp 8.2 175 17 113 5.1 64 12 15 Romans 35.7 133 1 Maccabees 6.2 64 39.5–6, 38–39 178 12:10, 17 67 Smyrnaeans Against Marcion 15:15–23 113 12.1 64 1 171 13.1 64 On Idolatry 2 Maccabees Trallians 10 133 1:1 67 2.3 48, 49 14 133 6:2 113 13.1 49 On Military Crowns 15:14 70 12.3 133 Justin Martyr 4 Maccabees Apology Th e Martyrdom 13:23, 26 67 1.26.7 175 of Saint Timothy 55 14:1 67 222 Ancient Sources Philo Acts of the Pagan Martyrs Dio of Prusa De decalogo 177 Orations 165–67 95 48 88 In Flaccum Aelius Aristides 4 177 Orations Diodorus Siculus 55 35 45.27–28 155 1.97 58 135–45 26, 177 22.3.5 166 136 37, 39, 45 Andocides 136–37 27, 177 1.132 77 Epictetus 137–38 177 Discourses Apuleius De Iosepho 2.8.12–14 52 Metamorphoses 38 94 3.28–4.25 163 Legatio ad Gaium Heliodorus 4.15 163 210 52 An Ethiopian Story 168 4.8 163 1.19 168 311–13 39, 47 4.8–33 166 312–13 177 4.9 163 Herodian 316 39 6.25–7.12 163 De opifi cio mundi (Roman) History 6.31 163 1.16.2 133 69 52 7.1, 7, 8 163 De specialibus legibus 7.5 164 Herodotus 2.145–48 177 11 57 Historiae 2.226–27 95 11.21 92 2.44 111 De vita contemplativa 11.25 92 2.63 58 40–41 47, 177 4.64 164 Artemidoros 4.106 168 Wisdom of Solomon 176 Oneirokritika 6.16 50 2:22 177 4.39 152 8:4 177 4.44 92 Hierocles 12:4–5 177 5.82 134 On Duties 4.25.53 95 14:15 177 Cicero 14:15–23 177 Homer De domo suo 14:23–24 177 Odyssey 74 26 21.285–304 164 y. Abod. Zar. In Pisonem 8–9 26 1.1, II.E 134 Livy Pro Sestio Historia Romana 33–34 26 39.6 170 Other Greek and Roman Corpus Hermetica 39.8 170 Literature 1.32 77 39.8.1–39.14.3 170 39.8–19 169 Achilles Tatius Digest 39.9–10 170 Leucippe et Clitophon 47.22.1.2 156 39.13 170, 171 3.9 167 39.14.3 170 3.10 167 Dio Cassius 3.13–14 167 37.30.3 166 Lucian 3.15 167 52.36.2 169 De saltatione 3.19 168 68.32.1–2 169 79 152 3.22 168 68.32.2 169 Fisherman 4.12.8 167 72.4.1–2 169 19 119 Ancient Sources 223 Ignorant Book-Collector Pliny Strabo 19–20 120 Epistulae Geography 15 Peregrinus 10.33–34, 93–94 42 14.1.20 55 11 43 10.35–36, 100–101 133 16.2.21 14 Scythian 10.96.6–7 43 17.1.6 168 9 119 10.96.7 174, 175 17.1.19 168 De syria dea 110 10.96.7–8 43 4 108 Suetonius 6 109 Plutarch Augustus 57 133 12–13 54 Cicero Caligula 42 133 33 54 10.4 166 Nero 16.2 174 36 54 De fr aterno amore 46.4 133 47 54 479C-D 81 Tiberius 34 133 479D 74 Martial 479F 81, 95 Tacitus Epigrams 480C 81 Annales 7.30 171 481C 81 15.38–44 42 491B 81 15.44 42, 174 Ovid Dion 15.44.2 174 Fasti 54.1 77 Historiae 1.169–70 133 Isis and Osiris 5.5.2 171 1.171–94 133 352B 52 Moralia Vetius Valens Pausanias 352B 48, 57 Anthology Graeciae descriptio On Aff ection for Off spring 95 4.11.11 77 1.17.2 164 Publicola 1.28.2 164 4.1 166 Xenophon of Ephesus 5.10.8 164 De superstitione 15 An Ephesian Tale 169C 15 1.2 52 Philostratus 170D 15 1.2–3 55 Vita Apollonii 2.13 167 7.11, 20, 33 166 Quintus Cicero 3.12 168 Commentariolum petitionis Plato 8.29–30 26 Epistles 333d-e 77 Sallust Plautus Bellum catalinae Bacchides 52ff , 368ff 170 22.1–2 166

Pliny the Elder Sopator Naturalis historia Division of Questions 5.15 14 339 77 Inscriptions and Papyri

AE CCCA 533 85 (1994), no. 1660 129, 139 I 252 59 537 85 I 289 59 590 86 BE I 456 159 599 86 (1951) 204, no. 236 88 I 60 48 611 86 (1952), 160–1, no. 100 90, III 233–36 91 612 86 106 III 241b–3 91 613 86 (1993) 771 93 III 246 91 614 86 III 263 91 619b 86 Bean and Cook 1955 III 283–84 91 619c 86 103, no. 17 70 III 334 91 619d 86 VI 342 90 662 126 Bean and Mitford 1962 VI 454 91 699–702 126 209–211, nos. 33–5 68 704–8 126 CIG 720 126 BGU 2007f 40 694 85 I 248–9 74 2271 45 720 86 II 531 74 2287 41, 127 739 86 II 594–5 74 3163 75 741 135 II 597 74 3874 136 742 151 IV 1209 74 3995b 86 745 136 VIII 1755 74 5853 41, 127 755 158 VIII 1770 74–75 757 134 VIII 1788 74 CIJ 775 124 VIII 1874 74 1404 40 776 124 XVI 2607 74 166 85 777 123–24, 129–30 319 85 778 124 Bömer 1981 [1958–63] 365 148 787 139 176–178 77 425 148 873 139 503 148 929 139 Buckler 1913 494 85 931 139 296–300, nos. 2–3 150 496 85 88 85 300–6, nos. 4–5 150 508 85 93 85 509 85 Buresch 1898 510 85 CIL 58–62 91 523 85 III 703 136

224 Inscriptions and Papyri 225 III 704 136 1287 72 Fraser 1977 III 707 136 1288 72 74, 78, 164–65 III 3384 77 nn. 430–37 71 III 3384 92 CIS III 3415 77, 92 115 108 Fuks 1953 III 3959 77, 92 116 108 157–58 168 III 4041 77, 92 119 108 V 2090 136 I 10–96 107 GIBM V 2176 136 I 114–21 107 IV 920 70 V 2315 136 Clerc 1885 IV 934 70 V 4015 136 124–31 106 IV 963 105 V 4017 136 IV.2 1007 31, 59 V 4448 136 Conze and Schuchhardt Hagel and Tomaschitz 1998 VI 2233 77 1899 42 88 VI 467 77 179–80, no. 31 30, 158 XIV 128 157 130–31 88 XIV 309 157 Cormack 1943 Hepding 1907 XIV 374 157 39–44 89 XIV 2112 171 327–29, nos. 59–60 88–9 XIV 4569 157 Cousin and Deschamps Herrmann 1996 1894 315–41, no. 27 57 CIMRM 21, no. 11 70 323 150 623–24 77, 92 Cousin and Diehl 1890 Hö rig und Schwertheim CIRB 114–118, no. 18 70 1987 75–108 73, 91 274 77, 92 77 73, 91 373 77, 92 96 73, 91 CPJ 375 77, 92 98 73, 91 I 138 38 376 77, 92 99 91 III 454 35 381 77, 92 100 73, 91 III 468 35 III 473 86 103 73, 91 IAlexandriaK 104 73, 91 DFSJ 74 41 105 73, 91 91–2 40 967 73 31 38, 126 1260 72 IAlexTroas 1260–88 72 Dimitsas 1896 122 135 1262 72 no. 920 136 151–52 135 1263 72 1264 72 Ditt mann-Schöne 2000 IApamBith 1277 72 226–27, no. V.5.10 129 103 48 1278 72 35 40, 59 1279 72 Doublet 1889 1280 72 303–04, no. 7 70 IAphrodSpect 1281 72 66–68 56 1282 72 Edson 1948 88 154 1283 72 154–58, no. 1 90 90 154 1284 72 89–90 56 1285 72 Foucart 1873 91–92 154 1286 72 223–225, no. 43 45 93 56 226 Inscriptions and Papyri IAsMinLyk 2259 110 IEgJud I 1 70 2261 110 9 40 I 69 45 2262 110 13 40 2263 110 22 40 IBithynia 2264 110 24 40 III 2 70 2266 110 25 40 III 7 70 2269 110 27 40 III 8 70 2270 110 28 40 2275 110 86 70 ICarie 2283 110 114 70 63–64 88 2285 110 117 40 2294 110 125 40 IDelos 2299 110 126 40 50 111 2300 110 1519 45, 111 2305 110 IEph 1520 111–12 2308 109 11 56 1719–1721 110 2309 109 14 55 1730–1771 109 2314 109 20 33 1772–1796 111 2325 111 22 106, 154 1774 111 2366 109 27 56 1777 112 2396 109 28 56 1778 112 213 51 2549 109 1779 112 234 88 2593 109 1780 112 235 88 2598 109 1782 112 239 88 2599 109 1783 111 275 51, 155 2612 109 1785 111 276 56, 155, 158 2616 109 1789 111 293 51, 154 2633 109 1925 109 424 88 1937 109 2879 109 424a 88 2005 109 434 51, 147 2034 109 IDelosChoix 454 33 2077 75 85 111 546 56 2080–81 75 86 109 636 154 2091a-b 109 95–98 109 650 155 2100 109 105 109 943 56 2101 109 107 109 951 56 2130 109 116 109 972 160 2182 109 131 109 991 56 2220–304 110 138 109 1020 51 2224 110 144 109 1060 57 2225 110 145 109 1070 57 2226 110 157 105, 109 1071 57 2245 110 164 109 1084 79 2248 110 1089 79 2251 110 IDidyma 1098 79 2252 110 107 56 1210 51 2255 110 201 56 1257 155 2257 110 272 56 1268 58 2258 110 502 45, 147 1270 51 Inscriptions and Papyri 227 1503 58 I 90 86 II.2 10265–86 108 1573 160 I 114 86 II.2 10468–73 108 1595 51, 155 I 115 86 II.2 11415 108 1601 51, 58, 158 I 116 86 III 162 57 1601e 88 II 171 70 III 1081 45 1602 58 II 209 85 III 1089 45 1677 136 II 251 85 III 1102 45 2212 136 II 288 85 III 1280a 89 2213 134 II 406 85 IV 783.b.4 152 2304 136 II 528 70 V.1 116 88 2402 136 II 540 85 V.1 593 88 2446 136 II 542 85 V.1 499 88 3080 33 II 544 85 V.1 587 88 3263 56 II 560 85 V.1 589 88 3801 133 II 576 85 V.1 597 88 3808a 155 II 577 85 V.1 608 88 4117 154 II 578 85 VI 374 148 4337 155 II 584 85 IX.2 573 51 4330 56 X.2 260 136 4337 50 IFayum X.2 288 27, 40 X.2 289 27, 40 15 41 IErythrai X.2 291 27 I 9 40 63 88 X.2 309 90, 106 II 121 41 X.2 480 90, 106 IEurJud X.2 564 152 IG 69 35 X.2.1 824 71 II.2 342 108 98 35 XI.4 777 109 165 35 II.2 343 108 XII.1 158 105 166 35 II.2 960 108 XII.1 963 105 288 35 II.2 1008 108 XII.3 104 114 338 35 II.2 1011 108 XII.3 178 110 406 35 II.2 1043 108 XII.3 6 109 428 35 II.2 1337 107 XII.7 395–410 105 451 35 II.2 1368 147, 154, XII.8 388 88–9 452 35 160, 171 XII.8 389 88–9 527 35 II.2 1369 45 XII.8 458 88 557 35 II.2 1960 108 XII.8 525 88–9 558 35 II.2 1993–1995 78 XII.8 533 88 560 35 II.2 2314 108 XII.9 906 72 576 35 II.2 2316 108 XIV 600 111 577 35 II.2 2361 107 XIV 902a, p. 694 70 584 35 II.2 2946 107 XIV 956B 79 I 5 85 II.2 3147 108 XIV 2516 72 I 18 85 II.2 8407 108 XIV 2540 114 I 56 86 II.2 8408 108 I 61 86 II.2 9484 108 IGBulg I 62 86 II.2 4540 108 401 58 I 76 136 II.2 4698 108 480 90, 106 I 86 86 II.2 8358 108 1517 57–8, 90 I 87 86 II.2 8388 108 1864 147 228 Inscriptions and Papyri IGLAM 1169 45 12 142 53 88–89 I 160 58 14 125, 128, 152 503 a, b 70 16 124–25, 127, 132 656 154 IHierapJ 18 125 798 45 22 141 19 125, 142 1381–2 44 24 141 20 124 1724d 92 36 138 21 125 40 132, 138 22 124 IGLSkythia 41 128, 132, 23 124, 130, 137 I 58 40 138, 154 I 99 90, 158 42 138 IHierapPenn I 100 90, 158 50 137–8 7 137 I 199 90 69 124 14 124 III 35 90 72 124 22 128 III 44 90 97 124 23 137–38 III 72 105 104 124 25 128, 137 II 83 90–91, 158 133 132, 135, 30 124 137–38 37 138 IGR 153 57, 137 45 137 I 26 114 156 138 46 124 I 420 115 195 125, 132, I 421 115 137–38 IIasos I 446 34 209 137 116 45 I 614 91 212 124 376 125 I 782 40 218 137 392 125 I 787 78, 90, 227 135, 137–38, 141 106, 147 234 132, 137 IJO III 90 88 270 137 I Ach 1–4 38 III 191 88 275 125 I Ach 8–14 38 III 883 93 278 137 I Ach 25 38 III 1080 89 293 137 I Ach 35 113 IV 548 92 295 124 I Ach 36 113 IV 785 41, 127 310 137 I Ach 37 113 IV 786 41, 127 312 125 I Ach 41 113 IV 788–91 33, 41, 127 336 137 I Ach 53 158 IV 793–94 127 342 124, 128, I Ach 54 86 IV 822 138 137, 154 I Ach 66 114 IV 834 124 I Ach 67 114 IV 908 88 IHierapMir 123 I Mac 1 85 IV 1110 114 1–21 124 I Mac 3–4 85 IV 1128 105 1 125 II 11 113 IV 1348 148 2 125 II 14 131 4 125 II 14b 139 IGUR 5 124–26, 132 II 21.9 14 26 106 6 124–26, 142 II 26 38, 126 77 91 7 125 II 32 136 86 106 8 124–25 II 36 136 160 32 9 124–25 II 41 86 235–248 79 10 124–26 II 43 135, 146 246 72, 79 11 124, 132 II 44 38 Inscriptions and Papyri 229 II 47 158 ILaodikeia IPerge II 53–145 146 84 137 56 88 II 146 125 85 137 117 88 II 154 135 118 88 II 157 135 ILindos 120 88 II 168–78 136 252 158 121 88–89 II 171 136 391 105 122–25 88 II 172 141 392 105 II 174 125 IPerinthos II 187 126 ILydiaKP 27 34 28 34 II 187–209 124 I 42 49 56 90, 106 II 191 128 III 14–15 146 59 40 II 196 129–30 IMagnMai II 205 41, 127 IPhrygR 117 49, 92 II 206 126 64 92 119 56 II 216 141 506 92 II 223 134 215 49 II 233 141 321 45 IPontEux II 238 141 IV 207–212 90 III Syr70 70 IMagnSip 15 75 IPriene 195 75 IKilikiaBM IManisaMus I 27 88 354 159 IPrusaOlymp I 34 68–69, 90 24 45 II 156 69 IMiletos II 189–202 68 IPrusiasHyp 940d 154 II 190–202 134 845 48 II 196 68–69 IMylasa II 197 68–69 IRomJud 541–64 70 96 39 II 198 68–69 544 70 II 199 69 165 39 554 70 189 39 II 200 68–69 571–75 45 194 39 II 201 68 288 39 II 202 68 INikaia 406 39 II 205 68 62 136 542 39 95 136 549 39 IKlaudiupolis 1283 136 560 39 75 70 1422 136 562 39 115 136 576 39 IPergamon 584 39 IKos 336 57 65 70 338 75 ISardBR 69–72 70 374 133, 158 13 146, 154 155–59 134 374B 136 14 146, 154 393 33 17 146 IKyzikos 424 33 22 146 97 135, 154 434 33 46 149 211 135 485–88 30 62 146 291 135, 154 486 152 22l 150 230 Inscriptions and Papyri ISardH 729 49, 147, 152 LSAM 1 146 730 147 20 32 2 146 731 49, 147, 3 146 152, 160 LSCG 4 146, 159 732 49, 147, 160 51 154 5 146–7 733 147 734 148 Lüderitz 1983 ISelge 765 147 11–21, nos. 6–7 158 2 87 844a 86 15–17 88 Macridy 1904 106 17 87–88 IStratonikeia 20 87–88 171 88 MAMA 183 88 III 580 45 ISmyrna 185–87 88 III 780 45 204 135, 147 214 88 III 788 45 205 135, 147 227 88 IV 230 92 217 147 235 88 IV 281 159 218 134 237 88 VI 177 41, 127 295 135 327 88 VI 183 41, 127 296 126 707 88 VI 336 136 330 48, 50, 148 845–46 48 VIII 132 70 331 148 VIII 455 88 534 148 ITralles VIII 492b 88 598 147 73 56 VIII 514–17a-b 88 599 147 74 49 X 152 86 600 49, 147, 153 86 49, 58 X 437 70 601 49, 147, 153 90 56 622 49–50, 147, 134 56 McCabe 1986 153, 155 145 56 no. 119 45 639 49, 147, 168 49 152–53 642 147 Judeich 1898 Mendel 1912–14 652 49, 147, 174 138 vol. 1, nos. 102–8 106 152, 154 653 50, 147 Kalinka 1906 Merkelbach 1979 155 654 50, 147 157–58, no. 177 90 655 50, 147, 155 Mitchell 1999 697 146–47, Labarre and Le Dinahet 131, no. 51 152 150–51 1996 706 148 102–3, no. 62 129 Naour 1977 709 147 265–71, no.1 88 713 147 Laminger-Pascher 1992 714 33 no. 69 44 NewDocs 715 147 no. 408 93 I 1 27, 155 716 148 I 3 159 718 147–48 Lane 1971–76 I 5 40, 152 720 45, 148 1:49–50, no. 75 57 I 17 74 721 147, 150 II 14 71 725 75 le Bohec 1981 II 80 70–71, 95 726 50, 147 192, no.74 85 III 11 71, 95 728 49, 147 194, no.79 85 III 74 70 Inscriptions and Papyri 231 IV 15 74 PKöln PTh mouis IV 22 51 260 135 1 168 IV 33 71, 95 IV 124 67, 74 Pleket 1958 PTor V no. 4 92 1 75 33 V 4 66 Pleket 1970 Ramsay 1895–97 VI 25 77 61–74, no. 4 57, 92 118–19, no. 28 141 VI 32 155 VIII 12 136 PLond Reynolds 1977 VIII 12a-b 113–14 2710 92, 172 242–44, nos. 16 41 I 44 75 244–45, no.17 38, 41, 130 Newton and Pullan VII 2193 159 244–47, no. 18 38, 41 1862–63 2.704–5, no. 12c 70 PMich Ritt i 1985 V 243–5 171 108–13 138 OClaud I 158 74 Pouilloux and Dunant Ritt i 1992–93 123, 129–30 II 226 74 1954–58 42 124 no. 192 88 48 129 OGIS no. 238 88 59 130 145 41 66–7 138 189 78 POxy 470.10 88 110 27 Robert 1946 593 108 1368 165 100–101 158 594 115 1484 27 595 41, 115, 127 1755 27 Robert 1949 3693 27 Ott o 1975 [1905–8] 4339 27 74–81 88 1.108–10 80 XVII 2148 74 1.119 n.1 75 XLII 3057 74 Robert 1960a 1.124 n.3 75 LV 3808 74 436–39 158 2.180 n.1 80 PParis Robert 1960c PAmherst 5 75 261 38 I 3a 94 42 75–76 45 76 Robert 1965 PColon 46 76 38–42 95 3328 165–6 PPetaus Robert 1969 Pennacchiett i 1966–67 28 80 309–11 88 293–4 124 319–20 88 PRyl 2:1275–78 56 Petzl 1977 IV 604 67, 78 87, no. 18 147 Robert 1971 [1940] PSI nos. 225, 240–41 147 Petzl 1994 III 236 78 126, no. 108 159 X 1162 77 Robert 1975 159

PGM PTebtunis Robert 1978 IV 1135 77 32 41 492–94, no. 510 93 232 Inscriptions and Papyri Roberts, Skeat, and Nock 49 (1999), IV 76 57 1936 92 no. 1814–1836 123 V 93 45 49 (1999), no. 2508 136 V 179 27, 91 Sauciuc-Sâveanu 1924 V 432 93 126–39, no. 1 90 SIG3 V 449 27, 91 139–44, no. 2 90 804 88 V 451 92 813 A and B 88 V 470a 27, 91–92 SB 854 88 V 483a 91 7457 40 898 72 V 536 27, 91 III 6664 41 1111 89 V 762 92 V 7661 74 V 806 92 V 8757 41 SIRIS V 817 58 XIV 11644 74 16 57 V 822 58 XVI 12835 74 38 57 V 932 149 52 57 V 968 149 SEG 62 57 V 972 150 24 (1974), no. 1037 105 109 57 V 975 150 27 (1977), no. 267 27, 40 254 57 V 976 88 27 (1977), no. 293 152 295 58 V 977 56 29 (1979), no. 1264 30 307 75 V 978–80 150 35 (1985), no. 1337 45 313 57 V 1148 92 36 (1986), 314 75 no. 1051–53 154 315 57 UPZ 36 (1986), no. 1241 88 318–19 75 I 8 75 37 (1987), no. 809–10 113 384 91 I 61 76 37 (1987), no. 1099bis 88 433 58 I 62 76 38 (1988), no. 1462, C 56 709 58 I 64 75–76 39 (1989), no. 1055 88 I 65 75 39 (1989), no. 1240 88 Tacheva-Hitova 1983 I 68 75–76 42 (1992), no. 625 40, 91 116–19, no.101 90 I 69 76 42 (1992), no. 1247 93 77–78, no. 13 91 I 70 75 43 (1993), no. 893 70 I 71 76 43 (1993), no. 950 88 TAM I 72 76 43 (1993), no. 952 88 II 604 135 I 93 75 43 (1993), no. 954 88 II 612 134 I 109 76 43 (1993), no. 955 88 II 615 135 II 162 75 44 (1994), no. 695 88 II 640 71 II 180a 75 44 (1994), no. 1110 88 III 14 88 45 (1995), no. 738 88 III 16 88 Wagener 1868 45 (1995), no. 765 88 III 21 88 1 129 46 (1996), no. 1520 146 III 57 88–89 46 (1996), no. 1521 146 III 58 88 Wagener 1873 46 (1996), no. 1523 149 III 83 88 379–80 129 46 (1996), III 87 88 no. 1524 146, 149 III 98 88 Wilcken 1932 46 (1996), no. 1656 129 III 105 88 257–59 77 49 (1999), no. 814 89 III 122 88 49 (1999), no. 1536 87–88 III 123 88 Wörrle 1988 49 (1999), no. 1790 136 III 910 90 10–11, 216–19 56 Modern Authors

Aasgaard, Reider, 64, 67, 81 Beckford, James A., 29 Buresch, Karl, 91–93 Abrams, Dominic, 7 Behr, Charles A., 155 Burke, Peter J., 3–4, 8 Adam, Alfred, 178 Bell, H. Idris, 52, 166 Burke, Trevor J., 64 Ajrouch, Kristine J., 118 Benko, Stephen, 174–75, Burkert, Walter, 49, 53, 65, Albright, W. F., 110 180 77 Alföldy, Geza, 3 Benmayor, Rina, 9, 13 Ameling, Walter, 38, 106–7, Bernstein, Moshe J., 83 Cadoux, Cecil John, 155–56 114, 124, 126, 128–31 Berquist, Jon L., 29 Cary, Earnest, 166, 169 Berry, John W., 13, 102, 104 Anderson, Graham, 55 Cavendish, James C., 32 Bertrand, Jean-Marie, 163, Anderson, Robert T., 28–29 Chadwick, Henry, 44 167–68 Aneziri, Sophia, 2 Besnier, Maurice, 2 Chaniotis, Angelos, 131 Applebaum, S., 137 Bett enson, Henry, 170 Chapot, Victor, 58 Arnaoutoglou, Ilias N., 43 Bickerman, Elias, 173–74 Chapouthier, Fernand, 86 Arzt-Grabner, Peter, 64, 72, Binder, Donald, 109, 113–14 Chow, John K., 32 74–75 Birman, Dina, 102 Cichorius, Conrad, 138 Ascough, Richard S., 2–3, Boak, A. E. R., 171 Cohen, Shaye J. D., 14, 16, 30, 32, 35, 40–42, Bodel, John, 30 35, 99, 121, 131, 140 65–66, 146, 157 Boissevain, Jeremy, 32 Colson, F. H., 39, 52 Att ridge, Harold W., 54 Bömer, Franz, 65–66, 70, 72, Cormack, J. M. R., 89 Ausbütt el, Frank M., 2 77, 92 Costello, D. P., 37 Avram, A., 90 Bonnet, Corinne, 108, 111 Cowey, James M., 41 Bonz, Marianne P., 146 Crawford, Sidnie White, 83 Balch, David L., 13, 94–95, Bowersock, G. W., 168 Cumont, Franz, 179 102, 140 Brashear, William M., 40 Banks, Robert J., 64 Braudel, Fernand, 3 d’Antonio, William, 28 Bremen, Riet van, 87, 89 Banton, Michael, 10–11 D’Arms, John H., 115 Brent, Allen, 56 Barclay, John M. G., 5, 7, Daniel, Robert W., 77–80 Brett ell, Caroline B., 10, 103 13–14, 38, 42, 102, Brody, Aaron, 111 De Vos, George A., 6 121, 123, 130, 140 Brooten, Bernadett e J., DeConick, April D., 179 Barnett , H. G., 102 82–84 Deissmann, Adolf, 75, 94 Barth, Fredrik, 6, 9–11, 118 Brown, Peter, 100–101 Ditt mann-Schöne, Imogen, Barton, S. C., 3, 32, 43, 66 Brown, Raymond, 45 2, 129, 134 Baslez, Marie-Francoise, 109 Brubaker, Rogers, 11, 102 Dodds, E. R., 100–101 Baumgarten, Albert, 3, 83 Bruneau, Philippe, 105, Dölger, Franz, 166, 172, 178 Beard, Mary, 4, 42, 77 109–10, 112–13, 136 Douglas, Mary, 162, 180 Beck, Roger, 165 Buell, D. K., 1, 17 Dudko, Dmitrii M., 119

233 234 Modern Authors Dunand, Françoise, 57–58 Grant, Robert M., 172, 175 Howard, Judith A., 6, 8, 63 Dunn, James D. G., 18 Griffi ths, J. Gwyn, 92 Humann, Carl, 138 Gruen, Erich S., 121, 169, Humphries, Mark, 35 Ebel, Eva, 3, 77, 92 170 Edson, Charles, 90, 106 Gurney, Joan Neff , 29 Isaac, Benjamin, 108–10, Edwards, Mark J., 172, 174 Guterman, Simeon L., 2 113, 115, 119–20 Egelhaaf-Gaiser, U., 2 Eiselen, Frederick Carl, Hadas-Lebel, M., 134 Jenkins, Richard, 9, 117–20, 107–8 Hagendoorn, Louk, 117–19, 161–62, 176 Eissfeldt, O., 106 161 Johnson, Aaron P., 17–18 Elise, Sharon, 102–3 Hall, Jonathan M., 6–7, 102 Jones, C. P., 54, 87–88, 163, Elliott , John H., 4–5, 14, 17, Hall, Stuart, 102 165–66 25, 64, 148, 151 Hanson, J. Arthur, 163 Judeich, Walther, 124, 137– Esler, Philip F., 4, 7–8, 14, Harland, Philip A., 2, 19, 38, 141 151 25–27, 30–32, 37, Judge, E. A., 2 41, 43, 49, 51, 56, 59, Faust, Katherine, 32 64–65, 83, 90, 96, Karlsen, Saff ron, 117 Feldman, Louis H., 151, 100, 121, 123, 133, Kasher, Aryeh, 35 173–74 138, 149, 150, 153, Kaufert, Joseph M., 8–9 Feldmeier, Reinhard, 17 156, 158, 178 Kee, Howard Clark, 40 Fellmeth, Ulrich, 2 Harmon, A. M., 43, 54, 119 Keil, J., 55, 92 Ferguson, W. S., 37 Harris, William V., 4 Kerri, James Nwannukwu, Foucart, Paul, 45, 83 Harrison, Jane Ellen , 173 28–29 Frankfurter, David, 168, Hartog, François, 119 Klauck, Hans-Josef, 3 178–79 Hasenohr, Claire, 105, 109 Kloppenborg, John S., 2–3, Franklin, James L., Jr., 26 Hatch, Edwin, 2 31, 40, 44, 65–66, 152 Fraser, P. M., 65–66, 71–72, Hatzfeld, Jean, 105 Kraabel, A. T., 139, 146, 151 100, 134 Heinrici, Georg, 2, 44 Kraemer, Ross S., 131, 151 Frerichs, Ernest S., 99 Hellerman, Joseph H., 64–65 Krier, Jean, 153 Frey, Jean-Baptiste, 151 Hembold, W. C., 81 Krysan, Maria, 28 Freyne, Sean, 111 Hemelrijk, Emily, 86, 96 Kusow, Abdi M., 118 Fuks, A., 168 Hengel, Martin, 82–83, 85 Henrichs, Albert, 163, 165– La Piana, George, 100, 106, Gager, John G., 4 66, 172, 174, 179–80 115 Garland, Robert, 106–7, 135 Hepding, H., 88–89 Laminger-Pascher, Gertrud, Gasparro, Giulia Sfameni, 49 Hermansen, Gustav, 30 44, 93 Geertz, Cliff ord, 12, 28–29 Hill, Christopher, 3 Lane Fox, Robin, 64–65 Gerlach, Luther P., 32 Hine, Virginia H., 32 Lassen, Eva Maria, 83, 85, Gerner, Erich, 125 Hobsbawm, E. J., 3 87, 94 Gibson, Elsa, 67 Hock, Ronald, 35 Latt imore, Richard Gilmour, S. MacLean, 2 Hogg, Michael A., 7 Alexander, 136 Gleason, Philip, 11–12 Hölbl, Günther, 58 Layton-Henry, Z. , 11 Glover, T. R., 175, 178 Hollifi eld, James F., 10, 103 le Bohec, Y., 85 Goodenough, E. R., 73, Hopwood, Keith, 163 Le Dinahet, Marie-Th érèse, 135–36 Horrell, David G., 4–5, 42, 109, 129 Goodman, Martin, 99, 123, 64, 67 Le Guen, Brigitt e, 2 139 Horsley, G. H. R., 3–4, 32, Leege, David C., 32 Gordon, Milton, 103 43, 66, 71, 83, 95 Lendon, J. E., 148 Goudriaan, Koen, 6, 115 Horst, P. W. van der., 123, Leon, Harry J., 35, 82–83, Grabbe, Lester L., 113 140 85, 128, 148 Modern Authors 235 Levine, Lee I., 82–86 Mitropoulou, Elpis, 59 Rajak, Tessa, 37–39, 42, 84, Levinskaya, Irina, 40, 73 Morawska, Ewa, 103 96, 121, 123, 133, Liddell, Henry George, 75 Moulton, James Hope, 72, 139, 142, 146, 158 Liebenam, Wilhelm, 83 75 Ramsay, W. M., 92, 136–37, Lieu, Judith, 1, 2, 65 Moya, Jose C., 28 141 Lightfoot, J. B., 48, 52 Müller, Christel, 105, 109 Rauh, Nicholas K., 109 Lightstone, Jack, 99 Murray, Michele, 18, 131 Reardon, B.P., 167 Litt le, Kenneth, 28–29 Musurillo, Herbert A. , 177 Reicke, Bo, 2 Liu, Jinyu, 2, 83, 86, 96 Remus, Harold, 32–33 Lofl and, John, 32 Nazroo, James Y., 117 Rendall, Gerald H., 175, 178 Lüderitz, Gert, 41–42, 106, Neumann, Gunter, 91 Richardson, Peter, 3, 35, 83, 158 Nijf, Onno van, 2, 65–66, 69, 148 71, 134, 149 Ritt i, Tullia, 123–24, 129– McCready, Wayne O., 25, 65 Nilsson, Martin P., 53, 58, 31, 138–39 McDonald, Margaret, 5 90, 100, 133, 147, 178 Rives, James B., 165–67, McGowan, Andrew, 167, Nock, Arthur Darby, 65–66, 172, 174 172, 174 92, 172 Robert, Louis, 87, 93, 156 McLean, B. Hudson, 112 North, J.A., 42, 77, 128, 169, Rogers, Guy MacLean, 53, MacMullen, Ramsay, 3 170 56 Macridy, T., 41, 106 Noy, David, 38, 70, 73, 83– Rolfe, J. C., 166 Magie, David, 58 85, 96, 99–100, 106, Romanucci-Ross, Lola, 6 Malherbe, Abrahem, 4, 95 123, 135, 139, 140 Rostovtzeff , M., 54 Malina, Bruce J., 4– 5, 7, 148 Roueché, Charlott e, 87 Mano-Zissi, D., 85 Oden, Robert A., 54 Rousselle, R. J., 169 Marcus, Ralph, 38 Oldfather, William Abbott , Royden, Halsey L., 2, 157 Maresch, Klaus, 41 52 Ruggini, L., 100 Marger, Martin N., 13, 102, Oliver, Graham J., 30 Runesson, Anders, 3, 83, 113 140 Oster, Richard, 57 Rutgers, Leonard Victor, 123 Martin, Dale B., 4 Ott o, Walter, 75, 80 Rutherford, Ian, 168 Mason, Steve, 14–16, 38, 151 Parker, Robert, 106 Sage, Evan T., 170 Meeks, Wayne A., 4, 5, 25, Paulsen, Henning, 48 Ste. Croix, G. E. M. de., 3, 42 64–67, 158–59 Pennacchiett i, Fabrizio, 124 San Nicolo, Mariano, 65–66, Meiggs, Russell, 33, 156–57 Perrin, Bernadott e, 166 75, 78, 80 Mendel, Gustave, 41, 106 Perry, Jonathan Scott , 2, 83, Sanders, Jimy M., 10–11, 34 Merkelbach, Reinhold, 155, 86, 96 Sandnes, K. O., 64 165 Petzl, Georg, 147, 153, 159 Schäfer, A., 2 Meslin, Michel, 133 Peyron, Amedeo, 75 Schäfer, K., 64 Meyer, Hugo, 112 Phinney, Jean S., 101–2, 104 Schäfer, Peter, 15, 38, Meyers, Barton, 11–12 Picard, C., 55, 58, 112 173–74 Milik, J. T., 106 Pleket, H.W., 54, 56–57, 79, Scheid, John, 33 Millar, Fergus, 30, 37, 39, 89, 92 Schelkle, K. H., 64–66, 77 111, 139, 153 Poehlman, William, 85 Schmeller, Th omas, 3, 25, 65 Milligan, George, 72, 75 Poland, Franz, 2, 44–45, Schoedel, William R., 48, 57 Miranda, Elena, 123–24, 65–66, 70, 83, 86, 90 Schürer, Emil, 73, 82, 139 126–29, 131–32, 137, Price, S. R. F., 42, 53, 77, Schwartz, Daniel R., 14 139 133 Schwarzer, Holger, 2, 30 Mishnun, Florence, 28–29 Scott , George M., 9 Mitchell, J. Clyde., 32 Radice, Bett y, 43, 175 Scott , Robert, 75 Mitchell, Stephen, 73, 152 Radt, Wolfgang, 30 Seager, Andrew R., 146 236 Modern Authors Seland, Torrey, 39, 177 Teixidor, Javier, 106, 109, Watanabe, A., 163 Sewell, William H., 12 111, 115, 121 Waters, Mary C., 8 Seyfarth, Jutt a, 92 Th ackeray, H. S. J., 174 Webster, Jane, 13, 14, 103 Seyrig, H., 54, 110 Th eissen, Gerd, 4, 5 Weinfeld, Moshe, 3 Shaw, Brent D., 163 Th ompson, E. P., 3 Welch, Kevin W., 32 Shelton, John C., 168 Th omson, Randall J., 29 Wellman, Barry, 32 Sherwin-White, A. N., 42 Tierney, Kathleen J., 29 Wheeler, Roxann, 161 Siebert, Gérard, 110 Tod, Marcus N., 154 White, John L., 76 Skarsaune, Oskar, 16 Toynbee, J. M. C., 135–36 White, L. Michael, 32, 85, 96 Skotnes, Andor, 13 Trebilco, Paul R., 3, 121, Wilcken, Ulrich, 75–77, 86 Smallwood, E. Mary, 41–42, 123, 136, 139, 151 Wilken, Robert L., 3, 42, 146 151 Trinquier, J., 163 Williams, Margaret H., 38, Smith, Dennis E., 171, 178 Trümper, Monika, 30, 123, 131, 135, 142, Smith, Jonathan Z., 2, 49 112–13 151, 178 Snyder, Graydon F., 44, 67 Turcan, Robert, 100, 165 Wilson, Bryan R., 25, 64 Sommer, Stefan, 2 Turner, J. C., 7, 66 Winkler, Jack, 163, 165–66, Sosin, Joshua D., 115–16 168 Spillman, Lyn, 12 Ustinova, Yulia, 40, 65, 70, Winkler, John J., 163, Stark, Rodney, 32 72–73, 91 165–67 Stephens, Susan A., 163, Wirth, Louis, 11, 29 165–66 Verkuyten, Maykel, 6–9, 11 Wiseman, J., 85 Stern, Menahem, 16, 173–74 Vermaseren, M. J., 165 Wood, John Turtle, 48 Stets, Jan E., 6, 8 Vertovec, Steven, 10 Woolf, Greg, 153 Stone, Gregory, 118 Vestergaard, Torben, 106 Wörrle, M., 56 Stowers, Stanley K., 19, 27 Vidman, Ladislav, 58 Strubbe, J. H. M., 123, 125, Vogliano, Achille, 33, 58 Yinger, J. Milton, 13, 102–4, 134–36 140 Stryker, Sheldon, 8 Wagener, A., 129 Youtie, Herbert C., 27, 38, Wallis, Roy, 29 80, 155 Tacheva-Hitova, Margarita, Walsh, P.G., 169–70 58, 90–91 Waltzing, Jean-Pierre, 2, 31, Ziebarth, Erich , 2, 65, 75, Tajfel, Henri, 7– 9, 117, 65, 77, 83, 86 137, 160 161–62 Walz, Christianus, 77 Zimmermann, Carola, 2 Tanzer, Helen H., 26 Wasserman, Stanley, 32 Zuckerman, Constantine, 41

Names, Places, and Subjects

acculturation, 13–14, 102–4, benefactions/benefactors, Cybele, 40, 49, 57–59, 76, 140 148–51 89–91, 157 Achilles Tatius, 167 Berytians, 105, 110–12 adelphoi (see “brothers”) biculturalism, 102, 104, 160 daughter (thygatēr), 87–89, Adonis, 109 Bosporus kingdom, 72–73, 91 94–95 Antoninus Pius, 153 boukoloi (see “cowherds”) Dead Sea Scrolls/Com mu- Anubis, 76, 147 “brothers” (adelphoi), 63– nity, 67, 83 Aphrodisias, 139, 141 67, 69–81, 91–92, 94 Delos, 101, 105, 109–14 Aphrodite, 108–10, 114, 158 Demeter, 49–51, 57, 77, 93, Apion, 174 Calcaresians, 35 147, 155 Apollo, 30, 40, 49, 54, 57, 59, Campesians, 35 dissimilation, 13, 19, 103–4, 105, 138, 146, 158 cannibalism, 165–69, 172, 116, 140 Apuleius of Madaura, 57–58, 175 Dio Cassius, 168–69 91–2, 163–4 Caracalla, 138 Dionysos, 30, 32, 46, 49–51, archisynagogos, 40, 84 Carians, 106 53, 57–58, 76, 89–90, Aristides of Athens, 17–18 Cataline, 166 92, 146–47, 152, Artemis, 30, 55–57 Celsus, 43–44 154–56, 158, 160, Asia Minor, 47–51, 54, 57– Cilicia, 68–70 169–71 58, 69–71, 90, 105 collegium/collegia, 2, 26–27, doumos , 27, 90–91 Asklepios, 33, 90, 109–10 40, 43–44, 83, 85–87, “assembly” (ekklēsia), 44–45, 96, 105, 133, 136, 154, Ebionites, 16 111 156, 163–64, 171 Egypt/Egyptians, 74–80, 91, “associates” (hetairoi), 27 “companions” (symbiotai), 105–6 Astarte, 108, 110–12 27, 146–48 ekklēsia (see “assembly”) Atargatis, 54, 110 “company” (speira), 27, 58, El, 54 Athena, 150 89–91, 106 Elaia, 35 Athens, 106–8, 112 “corporate body” (poli- ephebes, 7, 45, 55–56, 70, Att is, 146 teuma), 38, 41–42 149, 158 Augustus, 39, 133, 158 Cos, 108 Ephesos, 33, 48–52, 54–56, “cowherds” (boukoloi), 30, 58, 135–36 Baal, 54, 77, 92 158, 167–69 eranos, 27 Bacchanalia, 169–171 Creolization, 14, 103 Eshmun, 107–8, 110–11 bandits (latrones, lēstai), cultural assimilation (see ethnic identity, 6, 101–4 163–65, 167–68 “acculturation”) ethnic labelling, 115–17 banquets, 162–65, 174–75 cultural maintenance (see ethnic studies (see “migra- Bendis, 106 “dissimilation”) tion theory”)

237 238 Names, Places, and Subjects father (pater), 86–92, 94–96, initiation rites (teletē), 43, Octavius, Gnaius, 112 158 49 Ostia, 33, 157 father of the synagogue, integration (see “bicultural- Ovid, 133 82–86, 95–96 ism”) father of the synod, 73, 91 Isis, 49, 57–58 papa (pappas/appas), 92–94 Flaccus, Gaius Norbanus, Israelites, 114 Paul, 44–45, 63–64, 66 39, 177 Italians, 105, 112, 146 Peter, 17 “foster-child” (trophimus), Phibionites, 178, 180 87–88 Janus, 133 Philo, 36–39, 52, 177 “foster-father” (tropheus), John, 45 philoi (see “friends”) 87–88 Josephus, 36–39, 174 Phoenicia/Phoenicians, 101, “friends” (philoi), 45, 71, 93 Julius Caesar, 37 106–9, 113, 115, 120 funerary practices, 134–36, Jupiter Dolichenus, 77, 92 Phrygians, 41, 106 142 Piraeus, 106–7 Kalends, 132–34, 136 Pliny the Younger, 42–43, Gaius (Caligula), 38–39 klinē, 27, 39 174–75 Gnostics, 18 koinon, 27, 110, 146, 158 Plutarch, 81 God-fearers, 73, 131, 139, Kore, 77, 146 politeuma (see “corporate 141 body”) Great Mother (see Cybele) laos, 38 Pompeia Agrippinilla, Greece, 72, 89 Livy, 169–71 32–33, 58 “guild” (synergasia), 27, 72– Lollianos, 165–66 Poseidon, 40, 105, 110–12 73, 78–79, 134–42, Lucian of Samosata, 43, 54, “prayer house” (proseuchē), 146–47, 149–50, 119–20 38, 40, 114 156–57 Lucius Antonius, 37 Processions, 47, 52–59 Lucius Verus, 153, 156 proseuchē (see “prayer Hadad, 110 house”) Hadrian, 50–51, 153–54 Magna Mater, 91 Puteoli, 115–16 Hauronas, 109–10 Magnesia/Magnesians, Hera, 54 48–49 Rhodes, 101, 105 Herakles, 40, 79, 109–11, Marcionites, 18 Rhodon of Selge, 69 154 Marcus Aurelius, 153, 156 Roma, 112, 158 Hermes, 105 Melqart, 110–11 Romanization, 13, 103, 133, Herodes Att icus, C., 154–55 Men, 57 142 hetaeriae, 43 Menekrates, P. Aelius, 57 Rome/Romans, 85, 105–6, hetairoi (see “associates”) migration theory, 10–14, 123, 127 Hierapolis, 54, 123–42 102 rosalia, 136 Horon/Hauron, 110 Minatius, Marcus, 112 human sacrifi ce, 165–69, Mithras, 33, 77, 92 Sachypsis, 41 172–74 mother (mater), 86–91, Samaria/Samaritans, 101, hybridity, 9, 102 94–96 105, 113–14, 121 Hygeia, 70 mother of the synagogue, “sanhedrin” (synedrion), 27, 82–86, 95–96 56, 132, 135–36 identity theory, 5–10, 63, multiple identities, 8–9 Sarapis, 58, 75–76, 91, 155 117, 101, 176, 180 mystai (see “initiates”) Sardis, 146–50, 159 Ignatius of Antioch, 47–59 mysteries, 48–49, 57–59, Scythians, 119 infanticide, 172, 175 76–77, 91–92, 159 sect typology, 25–26, 64–65 “initiates” (mystai), 47–51, Selgians, 69 57, 59, 73, 76–77, 148, Nergal, 107 Septimius Severus, 138 152–53, 158, 160 Nisyros, 114–15 Siburesians, 35 Names, Places, and Subjects 239 Sidon/Sidonians, 107–8, structural assimilation, 13, teletē (see “initiation rite”) 113 102–4, 140, 158 Tertullian, 177–78 Silenos, 92 symbiotai (see “com- Th eos Hypsistos, 70, 72–73 Silvanus, 157 panions”) thiasos (see “society”) Smyrna, 49–50, 52, 146–56, synagōgē (see “synagogue”) Th racians, 106 159–60 synagogeus, 110 Th yatira, 149–50 social psychology, 4–8, synagogos, 40 Tlos, 134–35 117–18 synagogue (synagōgē), 27, Trajan, 154 “society” (thiasos), 27, 37– 39–40, 82–86 Tralles/ Trallians, 48–49, 58 38, 49, 90, 106, 108, synedrion (see “sanhedrin”) Tripolitans, 35 110, 113 synergasia (see “guild”) Tyre/Tyrians, 41, 105, 108, “son” (huios), 87, 94–95 “synod” (synodos), 27, 111, 115–16 speira (see “company”) 37–39, 47, 52, 72–73, Squilla Gallicanus, M. 146–47, 152–54 Zeus, 30, 40, 46, 54, 59, 91, Gavius, 33 syntheis, 27, 40 108, 113, 146, 150, stereotyping , 116–20 Syria/Syrians, 54, 101, 159 Stratonike, 59 104–16, 119–21